To Bring You My Love
by burgessinthestreets
Summary: Thomas Shelby has finally "made it". The Shelby's are legal, successful, rich, and happier than ever. But with Thomas' ambition forever unyielding, can they stay that way? Modern AU.
1. Introduction

_Hi everyone. Thank you so much for taking the time to read this, and please let me know what you think! I think what I'm going to do at the start of each chapter is make a small playlist of the songs I mention within the chapter. The next couple chapters are in the works, and I've found that putting in the song titles or explaining them makes my writing choppy and doesn't really work. Once again, thank you for reading xx_

* * *

 _Playlist for "Introduction"_

 _Red Right Hand (cover) - PJ Harvey_

 _You and Whose Army? - Radiohead_

* * *

Grace Burgess mindlessly played with the Cartier bracelets on her wrist, looking out at dark forest flying by as Thomas sped down the back road home.

"Please slow down, babe." She murmured, tracing patterns on his hand that was gripping the Maserati's stick-shift.

Tommy said nothing, staring ahead with steel in the eyes she loved, the quiet PJ Harvey song the only noise above the hum of speeding tires. A song that was a part of his "deep thought" playlist, as Grace had entitled it, much to Tommy's disgruntled amusement. But regardless of his thoughts, the worry in her voice made him ease off the gas pedal slightly.

Taking her hand, Tommy kissed it three times, as usual, before placing it on her black-denim-clad-thigh, his rough palm remaining overtop of it. Out of the corner of her eyes, Grace saw his jaw clench off and on as he considered the thoughts racing through his mind. Always analyzing. She would inquire later. Knowing when to leave Thomas alone and when to soothe him was a skill she had sharpened to almost-perfection. Grace's phone buzzed and she glanced down at it.

 _ADA: On a scale of 1 to 10 how grumpy is he?_

 _GRACE: 7 and rising._

 _ADA: Oh, super. We'll be at the house in 15 for family meeting. Do you fucks want anything from the store?_

 _GRACE: Cigarettes. Tell Michael not to forget the files or I'll slash his tires._

Today had been stressful. The Derby was in five days, almost four now, and Shelby Brothers Limited was insane with work. Michael and Grace were swamped with the various accounts, John and Arthur were swamped with heading the bets, and Tommy was swamped with business. Some of which Grace knew about. Some of which she didn't.

Shelby Brothers Limited had been 100% legal for a year now, but they wouldn't be safe from the legal system for a least another two years, until their previous activity was legally irrelevant. Illegal money was still present on account sheets, and they had to be careful. This was the first year that business from the Derby was legal and could be handled accordingly. It was new territory for them all. But Grace was grateful. It was nothing compared to the stress that the family used to be under. Tommy especially. As she entwined her fingers in his, Grace smiled softly out the tinted car window as she remembered how they used to share one blanket on a cold floor, back when Tommy was on the run. Almost 6 years ago now. A safe house with no running water, for almost 8 months, absolutely nothing to do but keep each other company and wait for good news. They'd almost killed each other. Now they had their own (seven bedroom) house with a nearly-kilometer-long driveway, six cars, ten racehorses, and more material possessions than they could count. But, ironically, none of it mattered. They loved each other all the same. They would have slept in a hut for all they cared, as long as they slept next to each other, after everything they'd been through.

Thomas pulled into their driveway entrance and punched in the code at the gate, remaining ever silent. Grace inhaled his scent as the open window blew it back towards her. Cologne, shaving soap, whiskey, a slight touch of tobacco. They'd technically "quit" smoking, agreeing to only smoke if they split the cigarette together. They indulged more often than they had planned on, but nonetheless they still shared every one. The scent of it on him intoxicated her, even though there was nothing but a hint of it now.

The gate eased open, the iron "S" for Shelby splitting down the middle to make way for their Maserati. Opening her mouth, Grace almost began to ask him about the family meeting that was swiftly approaching, but decided better of it. The peripheral of her blue eye noted Tommy's raised eyebrow as his blue's peered at her as well, sensing her borderline inquiry. They knew each other too well. Grace rolled her eyes as he flicked his attention to his vibrating phone.

"We've made it this far just to die via your texting-and-driving?" She teased him in her Irish lilting accent.

Snorting lightly, he ignored her, tossing his phone to his other hand as she attempted to snatch it from him in kidding protest.

"I'm not going to crash the car in the driveway, Gracie."

"You say, as you steer with your knee."

He chuckled at that, thankfully, sliding his other hand up and down her leg in an attempt to soothe her as they approached the house. They settled into an easy silence as her mind settled back on the Derby and her own work, as her future husband did the same. The sound system spilled soft Radiohead lyrics in and out of her ears as she looked upon their estate grounds, growing muddled with nightfall.

 _You and whose army?_

 _You and your cronies_

 _Come on, come on_

 _Holy Roman Empire_

 _Come on, if you think_

 _Come on, if you think_

 _ **You think you can take us all on?**_


	2. Chapter One

_Hi everyone, thank you for reading! I just did two songs this chapter. I'm kind of laying out the dynamics of the Shelby family, and as much as I want to keep it modern, I don't want to overload it! Any support is appreciated, thank you again! xx_

* * *

 _The Union Forever - White Stripes_

 _Heartbroken, In Disrepair - Dan Auerbach_

* * *

Grace and Ada laid on the couch across from each other, their legs intertwined under the gray cashmere blanket, waiting for the boys to come in from their smoke so everyone could get this meeting over with. Grace sipped her wine, mindlessly looking at the ceiling, thinking about the work ahead of her this week.

"Why did you ever post this picture of us you bitch, look at my double chin." Ada groaned and pushed Grace's arm with her pedicured toes.

"Oh stop, you don't even have one, we looked so good that day!" Grace looked at her own Instagram post on Ada's phone, having been thrusted in her face. The two girls had drunken smiles plastered on their faces, champagne in hand, sitting on the stairs of Michael, Isiah, & Finn's flat, looking at each other and not at the camera. John's wife Meghan sat behind them, hand covering her laughing mouth, face buried in Ada's shoulder. Grace for the life of her couldn't remember what had been so funny. _Sisterhood_ , she thought. "We look so cute. That's the night Michael died at predrinks, remember?" The girls dissolved into laughter from their memories while some of the boys trickled back in from Grace and Tommy's stone veranda, still fighting obnoxiously loud about the Arsenal vs. Manchester City match.

"Where'd Tommy go?" Finn asked, emerging from the kitchen, flicking a piece of food across the room towards Ada's face. The youngest Shelby had impeccable aim. Slapping the crumbs out of her orbit, Ada pointed backwards towards the heavy double doors to Tommy's office, still shut.

Falling backwards onto a couch, Isiah yelled towards Tommy's office doors, "Oi, Tom can we get this going already? I have an exam tomorrow and shit."

"No one cares about your exam." Arthur said jokingly, cuffing Isiah on the ear as he lurched towards the brass bar cart that rested in front of Tommy and Grace's fireplace. "Whiskeys, everyone?"

"Fuck off, what do you know about uni, Arthur?"

"Not shit, and I turned out just fine."

John's booming laughter bounced off the walls as his strong frame sauntered through the porch door, Meghan trailing behind him, who settled in on top of Ada and Grace's legs, giggling.

"Yeah whatever you say Arthur. Somebody change this fuckin' song, it sucks."

"Christ, here we go again," groaned Michael from his spot on the floor. "On this episode of amateur hour: Meghan only likes the White Stripes' _new_ music."

Everyone in the room collectively started laughing and swearing as they started defending their stances on the matter. The "which White Stripes album is better" debate was never-ending and came up at least once a week, an unfortunate Shelby-family-fixture.

While the room dissolved into musical war, John crouched down behind Grace on the couch so he was close to her ear and no one else could hear their exchange.

"So do you want to go see what his fuckin' brooding is about or should I?" The signature flick of John's toothpick against his teeth emphasized the impatience in his voice.

Grace laughed softly and rolled her eyes. "I'll do it."

John nodded silently and walked back over to his seat as Grace approached Tommy's office doors, after untangling herself from the two Shelby females on her leather couch. Knocking softly, she looked out the window into the heavy night as she waited for him to answer.

"Babe, it's me."

"It's open." His velvet voice was deepened by the dark oak door and Grace could already hear the stress in it. As she pressed the door open, Tommy's scent filled her lungs and she sighed it back out in unconscious relief.

Arthur's voice yelled after her through the doorway, "Oi if you two are gonna start fuckin', at least make it quick." Grace flipped off the boys with a slight smile before shutting the door, muting their laughter.

Tommy's office was her favorite room in their house, other than her closet. Doubling as a library, the scent of books swam into the scent of Thomas, which was what Grace imagined heaven smelled like. Not that she would ever find out.

Pictures of the family filled any book-less spaces on his mahogany shelves. Grace and Ada kissing the face of Tommy's best horse after he won at Epsom, the brothers with Aunt Pol when they were little, Tommy sitting in Parliament, a 10-year-old-Finn being spun around on Grace's shoulders, back before Tommy and Grace were even officially together. Grace smiled briefly at the one large painting that hung on the far wall, a nature scene with an additional blood red stain right down the middle. The brothers had now entitled it "The Great Painting Fight of 2015". Grace and Tommy had, well, _disagreed_ , on how to decorate the living room. The fight had come to end with Grace throwing red wine on the painting and calling Tommy a passive aggressive ass-

"Gracie."

Grace snapped out of her memories and back into the matter at hand, her eyes flicking to Tommy's chiseled face, which was showing stress that no one else but Grace would have been able to see.

"Sorry. Reminiscing. Should we get this over with?"

Tommy blinked at her slowly from where he sat in his dark brown leather chair. He was so unbelievably handsome, and even after all these years Grace still swooned like a little girl when he looked at her like that.

Beckoning to her with his hand, he cleared his throat before murmuring to her.

"Come here."

Happy to oblige, Grace approached him with a bounce before settling onto his lap. Tommy wrapped his arms around her, the cold glass of his whiskey tumbler settling into her side. Pressing his forehead to her collarbone, they breathed each other in in silence for a few moments. Grace aimlessly rubbed the back of his head, his short hair like velvet. Dan Auerbach lyrics flowed out of his iPhone on the corner of his desk, filling the silence.

"It'll be fine, Tom."

"They're not gonna be happy."

"They will be when they see what the Americans can do for us."

"Yeah, but the American corporations are nasty business and they know it. I don't need them getting rebellious and shit with me before the Derby this weekend."

Grace grimaced knowingly at the thought of nasty business returning to their lives again. She glanced down and fiddled with her rose-gold bracelets, saying nothing. Grace's kidnapping hung over them both still, 3 years later. The memories gave her the chills, the smell of the warehouse she had been in fogged her brain. Sweat, blood, acid, metal. The traumatic anxiety gripped her as it crept in, her breath hitched slightly. Already knowing what she was thinking, Tommy set his whiskey on his heavy wooden desk before putting his hands on both sides of her face, cupping it. Wide blue eyes filled with pain met her own, and she was instantly reminded that it wasn't just her that had gone through her kidnapping, but Tommy too.

"Hey. We're safe, Gracie. Nothing's going to happen; not to you, not to me, not to anyone. It's nasty economic business. Not nasty illegal business. Things are different now. That's it. You're safe." He shook his head at her slowly, his nose brushing hers. "The worst thing we have to worry about in America is one of the boys getting involved with a Kardashian sister. Alright?"

Grace laughed and grasped his hands, their foreheads touching. "Bet: 100 pounds if it does happen it's gonna be with Arthur."

"I'll have to keep him extra busy with work when we go to Los Angeles, then."

"No way, this is a bet now." Tommy laughed at that and Grace pressed her lips to his smile, leaning them back in his office chair.

Pounding on the door interrupted their intensifying kissing, followed by an annoyed Scudboat, his massive frame filling the doorway.

"Are you two done yet? It's like fuckin' 8:30."

"Yeah, Isiah's gotta go, he has a spelling bee tomorrow." Yelled Michael from the living room. A loud thump and laughter followed as someone was shoved into a piece of furniture.

Tommy snorted and stood, picking Grace up with him and setting her on her feet. "Alright, alright. We're coming. Someone FaceTime Pol in New York, she should be done with the meetings by now. Better be." He muttered the last statement to himself in annoyance.

Grace watched Thomas as he shuffled his papers briefly before downing his whiskey in one shot, thinking she could watch him do that forever. Feeling her stare, he winked at her flirtily before pressing one more kiss to her lips as he confidently stepped past her.

"Don't worry, Gracie. You and me, remember? You and me."

"Me and you." Grace nodded, and followed him out of the room to her awaiting family.


	3. Chapter Two

_Sorry it's been a while everyone, I was busy with final exams and general life stuff. I made this chapter quite long as a thanks for waiting, and to reward anyone watching the new series of Peaky since it's quite bleak at the moment. Thank you so much for reading, please never hesitate to let me know your thoughts! xx_

* * *

 _So, in this chapter I mention most of the songs except for a couple. Sometimes mentioning the song names or band names works, and sometimes it doesn't. But even if I don't mention it, the songs will always be in chronological order to match the story. If I mention music in any way without name-dropping, it's just the next song on the list, if you are in fact listening. Same goes for playlists or italicized lyrics, it's just the one next song, not multiple. The two Parov Stelar songs are the two swing songs that play at the racetrack. If that makes no sense please let me know! xx_

 _Intro - The XX_

 _Michicant - Bon Iver_

 _What You Know - Two Door Cinema Club_

 _View From The Afternoon - The Arctic Monkeys_

 _Down With the Trumpets - Rizzle Kicks (If anyone wants me to make John's "party playlist", I shall!)_

 _Booty Swing - Parov Stelar_

 _Demon Dance - Parov Stelar_

 _Ceremony - New order_

* * *

Grace rubbed her bloodshot eyes and stared at the clock. 3:27 A.M. Michael and Grace sat on her and Tommy's living room floor, surrounded by files, highlighters, and their laptops. It was now Friday, the Derby a little over 24 hours away. The house was dark, except for the high chandelier, casting a warm glow that was making Grace more tired than she already was. Even Tommy had gone to bed already. Michael stared at the big screen TV, mouth hanging open unattractively. "Do you think Jon Snow is really dead?"

"No. Push the hummus over here." Grace reached for the dip in vain.

He obliged, pinching the bridge of his nose before looking back to his laptop.

They worked in comfortable silence for another half hour before Michael got up and cracked the balcony door to smoke a cigarette. Grace stretched her arms over her head and stared into the chandelier which tinkled lightly in the breeze from the open door.

"Okay I'm doing this last page and then going to bed, do you want to stay in one of the guest rooms?" Grace asked.

"Nah I won't be able to sleep anyway, I'm going back to the office to finish these."

"Christ, Michael. You need to sleep." Grace sighed and turned her attention back to the page, mindlessly looking at the numbers until something jumped out at her. Her brow scrunched in confusion at the seven thousand pounds sitting in a temporary account, opened three days ago. "What the hell is this? Did you open this account?"

Michael threw his cigarette off the stone porch and shut the door, yawning while shuffling his socks across the carpet, taking the paper from her outstretched hand. His slate gray eyes flicked over it for only a moment before he shook his head. "Tommy did, couple of days ago I guess. He said it's quick money, only to be there for like a week or some shit. Didn't he tell you?"

An ice of irritation jarred Grace's chest and she grabbed the paper from him, eyes on the numbers without actually looking at them. They told each other everything, she didn't understand. Attempting to calm herself, she stared blankly at the page. "Yeah, never mind I see it now, he told me about doing this a few days ago. I must have forgotten." She lied smoothly.

From the start of their relationship, they had sworn to tell each other everything…eventually. Grace had begrudgingly accepted Tommy's stance that some things were better off kept from her until they were resolved, or on better ground. So they had compromised, sealed in post-argument-make-up sex, that Tommy had 3 months to tell her everything. The seven thousand pounds she was blinking her blue eyes at shouldn't have worried her, but it did. They were 100% legal now, and this agreement had been irrelevant for almost a year. What could it possibly be?

Michael picked up their papers while swearing loudly in his increasing anger at Game of Thrones. He slid his shoes on before ruffling Grace's hair where she sat on the floor still, staring out the window, absorbed in her thoughts. "Hey. Are you okay?"

"Fine," She smiled. "Just tired. I'll see you tomorrow. Text me if you want coffee."

"Will do. Tell Tommy about that mistake I found before, yeah? Love you."

"Yeah. Love you too. Drive safe please, if you die I'll bring you back to life and then kill you again." She said with an eyebrow raise.

Michael chuckled and winked at her before darting out her front door.

Grace turned off all the lights before climbing up the left staircase, not trying to wake Tommy up. However, bass from The XX song blasting from Michael's Audi slammed into the night, shaking the two story front windows. "Oh honestly," she whispered to herself.

Tommy rolled over in bed as she creaked their double bedroom doors open, light spilling across his muscular chest, eyes squinting.

"Hey," He murmured, eyes already closed again, arms outstretched to her. Soft music played from the speakers next to their bed, as always, both of them unable to sleep without it. Bon Iver, one of Tommy's favorites, at the moment. "C'mere."

Taking off her clothes as she crossed the room, she slipped into bed and into his outstretched arms, which she was far from immune to resisting. They kissed softly in the dark before Tommy's breathing became deep and even with sleep, her favorite lullaby. Her annoyance faded as she breathed him in. But as Grace got drowsy she couldn't help but think about the seven thousand pounds sitting in an account that Michael knew about and Grace didn't. Repeating a mantra of her trust for Tommy, she fell asleep with her face buried in his neck.

* * *

Saturday. Derby day. Grace watched the sun make its entrance over the horizon. Colors sprayed across the sky; blood red, orange, saffron. She rolled over to tap her and Tommy's cigarette in the crystal ashtray.

Tommy's arm slid out from underneath her to slide up her back, damp with morning sex sweat, fingers trailing around the starburst-bullet-scar that distorted her skin. His fingertip slid over the warped circle, moving then to the tattoo that wrapped around it, labeling who it was for. Right on her left shoulder blade, Grace was unable to see it, but Tommy was. To remind him of her love, every day. He'd hated it at first, but Grace knew he'd grown to like it over the years. She would feel his lips press against it in the dark, when he thought she was sleeping, or would fall asleep with his forehead pressed against it.

 _T.S._

 _XI. X. MMIX._

The day she took a bullet meant for Tommy's heart. Height differences had their advantages in their kind of relationship. Grace made that joke once but Tommy hadn't found it as funny as she had.

"When did you set an alarm for?" His voice was still husky with sleep. It had sounded even better ten minutes ago, rasping in her ear with need.

"Seven. I'm going back to sleep. Are you leaving with the horses or coming with us?"

"The horses." He said, rolling over after taking the cigarette gently from between Grace's lips. Clearing his throat, he sat up on the edge of the bed and rubbed his eyes as the sun finally broke over the trees and spilled into their bedroom. Grace watched him as the smoke drifted out of his mouth slowly and made clouds in the sun-rays. Tommy's stress showed as he sat forward, elbows on his knees, back muscles rippling. "Charlie said Persephone started badly out of the box yesterday so him and I are going early to see how she paces. Scud will drive you, Ada, and Meghan to the track."

"My poor baby. Did she throw a shoe?"

"Yes." To anyone else he would have sounded curt, but Grace knew it was just stress, nothing to do with her. Not yet, anyway. The Peaky Blinders had taken the news about the American expansion terribly, as Tommy had predicted. The family was thick with tension and had been all week, and that was hardest on Tommy. Grace had left him alone about what she had seen, knowing he needed her. But her tension was building all the same.

Slinking across their pure-white sheets, Grace leaned up on her knees behind Thomas, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her breasts into his back, while planting a kiss on his cheek. She smashed her lips into his face repeatedly with fervor until he smiled, although barely. He held their cigarette up so she could take it. Claiming it between her teeth, she pushed her lips past the tip of the Parliament to kiss Tommy's fingertips before pulling away from him to lay back on their down pillows.

Grace balanced on the fence of wanting to say something while Tommy got up and crossed the room to their closet. She had been placing faith in the trust they had built their relationship on for the past twenty-four hours, knowing he would tell her eventually, but she was still herself, and couldn't resist.

"Do you have business today, Thomas?" Her Irish accent light. Too light.

Tommy sighed and ran his hand quickly through his undercut. "Not now Gracie, I need coffee."

Grace tensed and annoyance flooded her. This was unlike him, to be distant from her. Even if he did have to tell her things later, he always at least told her he would tell her later. Especially on a race day, and when all was supposedly well. Supposedly.

"Alright. We'll talk later." She snipped. He ignored her. She rolled over to rub out their cigarette. "Just open the-

"Window?" Tommy winked at her, standing by the window already as he slid it upwards.

Grace refused to acknowledge his sudden change of mood, and curled under their duvet as the cold breeze blew over her. Tommy strode over to her side of their bed, and brushed his lips against her temple.

"I'm sorry. I'll be better after today. We'll talk, okay? We always do Gracie, you know that. I just want you to have fun today. I'm going to shower. Go back to sleep. Text me when you get to the track, and don't forget we have the owner's brunch at 11."

"Mmm." Grace was already dreaming.

* * *

Incessant buzzing woke Grace up, accompanied by the signature alarm of her iPhone. Propping herself up, she moved off of Tommy's pillow, reluctantly leaving his scent behind.

The "PEAKY FUCKIN' BLINDERS" group chat had 205 messages. _For fuck's sake_ , she thought. They'd only just left her house 10 hours ago after Friday family dinner. Grace only bothered to read the most recent announcements that appeared on her screen.

 _Michael: Well fuck you then Finn. Get off your phone and get out of the bathroom. Anyway, who's awake we want to start drinking. Meet at our flat for predrinks? We have brunch at 11._

 _Meghan: Brunch IS predrinks. Btw, keep your football arguments in the brothers group chat, you annoying fucks. I just woke up to 174 text messages. Who does that? It's 6:30 in the morning. Grace call me when you wake up. Ada you too. Nobody rush, I can't get John's hungover ass out of bed anyway._

 _Isiah: Meg…football never sleeps. But drinking commences as soon as we wake up on #racedays_

 _Finn: Fuck you too Michael we have more than one bathroom now, it's not 2013 in case you didn't notice. Isiah I hate you for hashtagging that but…#RACEDAYS_

Grace laughed and pushed herself up out of bed, FaceTiming Ada first.

Ada's rosy face popped up on her screen, shoving a banana into her open mouth exaggeratingly.

"Ew," Grace laughed. "Are you coming over?"

The picture shook as Ada propped up her phone on her bathroom sink. Grace could see her curling her hair with a wand, the camera cutting off her face above her nose.

"Yeah, I just have to finish getting ready then I'll just Uber to your place, Scud texted me and said he'll drive us to Michael's and then the track. Did Tommy leave with the horses?" Her voice echoed off her bathroom walls.

"Mhm," Grace responded absently, sliding hangers down the rack in her walk-in closet. "What are you wearing?"

"That was one sassy "mhhhmm", you two better not be having a row on race day. I'm wearing that light blue Calvin Klein number that makes me look like a skinny bitch. You?"

"You always look like a skinny bitch. I think I might wear that mint green Valentino." Grace held the satin dress up to her in the mirror, scrunching her brows in brief self-criticism as she ignored Ada's truthful observation about her mood.

"Do it, I love that dress on yo-FUCK. I burned my fuckin' face, I gotta go. Don't bother calling Meghan I already texted her to come to your house first. I'll be over in like 45, yeah?" Ada disconnected, swearing again.

Grace tip-toed across the cold marble floor of their bathroom and turned on the shower, along with some upbeat music in an attempt to excite herself for race day. Singing along to her music, she allowed the hot water to run over her shoulders and undo the knots in her back as she pushed Tommy's business out of her mind.

 _And I can't say it's what you know_

 _But you've known it the whole time_

 _Yeah you've known it the whole time_

* * *

Grace, Ada, Meghan and John climbed the stairs to the junior Peakys' flat, the girls' heels echoing off the white walls. The riff from an Arctic Monkeys song rang down from above, harsh in the bright Saturday morning atmosphere.

"Honestly, it's nine in the morning, don't they have neighbors?" Meghan said.

"Yeah, neighbors that are too scared to complain. But apparently no one is scared enough to fix the fuckin' elevator." John got increasingly louder, yelling down the stairs to the doorman they had just passed, poking his wife in the side playfully when she told him to shut up.

Ada's head poked over the banister a floor above them. "John where's Arthur, by the way?"

"He ended up going ahead with Tommy for some reason. He wasn't helping with the horses though so I dunno why he went."

Grace said nothing, blinking quickly before rounding the corner to the next flight of ornate stairs. She had no patience for being left out of things, and when her and Tommy weren't working together they were weak. Ada's blue eyes caught Grace's knowingly and flashed her a look of sympathy before she disappeared and continued up the stairs. Grace felt even more irritated now. She hated sympathy.

They reached the boys' apartment, knocking seemingly a thousand times before a half-dressed Finn opened the door, toothbrush in his mouth and eyes on his phone, ignoring their arrival.

Their junior-bachelor-pad was a mess, which didn't surprise Grace at all. _At least it smells good,_ she thought. Bottles of alcohol lined the tops of their kitchen cupboards in memoriam of good times past, the full ones open on the granite countertop representing the ones about to be had. Their dark gray walls were lined with movie posters and framed jerseys of their favorite football players, some of them autographed. Their TV was almost the size of one of their walls, and their sunken living room was littered with Xbox controllers, half-smoked joints, and schoolwork. An interesting combination.

Isiah waltzed into the living room with a spin, Bloody Mary in hand, wearing a khaki suit with no shoes or socks. "Boys? Too early for a summer suit? Yay? Nay?"

"Nah, bruv, wear the Tom Ford." Michael glanced up lazily from his spot on the leather couch before turning his attention to John who was loudly inquiring about the champagne supply.

"The Tom Ford is too dark, wear this one." Said Finn, shaking his head and mumbling through his toothbrush. "Race days are summer suit days."

"Thought so, motherfuckers." Isiah yelled down the hallway as he headed back to his room.

Grace hopped up to sit on the counter with Meghan while Ada made them mimosas, bouncing her heel off the cabinet while she thought. Thankfully the boys were being loud as always about some football match and Meghan's inquiry went unnoticed. "Are you and Tommy having a row?"

"No, we're fine. Don't worry, today will be fun." Grace squeezed Meghan's freckled arm fondly with a reassuring smile, keeping her thoughts to herself.

Meghan laughed an all-too-knowing laugh and passed Grace her champagne flute. "Christ. Nobody's a match for Tommy Shelby except for you."

"Don't I know it." Grace smirked.

Loud crashing and swearing came from Isiah's room followed by a sheepish "…Can someone make me another Bloody Mary? Preferably Grace, since her Irish bartending skills make her drinks stronger than petrol?"

Grace laughed hard as she slid off the counter and sauntered to the other side, Louboutin's clicking the floor gently. "I'll go easy, I've almost killed you all on accident more than once with my drinks. We do need to last all day, after all."

"That's what playing in the snow is for." Michael said, wiggling his eyebrows.

"Oh, honestly," Ada groaned. "Did Tommy tell you it was okay?"

"Please, Ada, Tommy doesn't give a fuck what we do now that we're legal. HASHTAG RACEDAYS!" Finn yelled, his contagious laughter dragging everyone else in as well.

John turned the music up as it crashed into his party playlist over the flat's Bluetooth ceiling speakers, and Grace let herself enjoy her family, remembering that all Tommy did, he did for them.

Two hours and more than enough predrinks later the group raucously poured out of the Shelby Range Rover onto Cheltenham's private owners driveway, and Scud handed the valet the keys with a warning glance.

The private side of Cheltenham's racetrack was grand and lush looking, and it always reminded Grace of Versailles. The grand staircase that led to the floor where the owner's boxes were was wide and commanded the lobby, with blood-red carpet and brass banisters. Well-dressed members of the track walked here and there, the sound of silk dresses rustling running under the modern swing music that Tommy had convinced the board to play over the speakers on race days because it was Grace's favorite. She remembered sneaking in here with Tommy years ago, her young eyes wide as they pretended they had belonged. It seemed so long ago now, in a good way.

"Meghan and I are going to the ladies, do you need to go?" Ada asked, Meghan already pulling her towards the gilded door.

Grace shook her head and waved them on. "Go ahead, I want to find Tommy."

The girls bounced away towards the bathrooms as the boys headed for the downstairs bar. Grace pretended to forget that Tommy had asked her to text him when she got there, choosing to serve her own agenda instead. She headed towards the ballroom, echoing music, laughter, and clinking glasses calling her closer. After giving her name at the door she walked down the short hallway to the entrance, lights, people, and music overwhelming her for a brief moment. Pastel dresses swirled around the dance floor to the swing music while waiters rushed back and forth with food and drinks. It was a beautiful ballroom, with walls of all glass and large crystal chandeliers hanging from the high domed ceiling. Plants lined the walls and hung from every corner, and vines of flowers wrapped around the large marble columns that stood around the room. The racetrack loomed outside of the far window, the bright grass of the green infield popping next to the beige oval.

Grace gave her best cordial wave to the people she knew, eyes flicking away quickly as to not get pulled into a conversation yet. Scanning the crowd, she found Tommy's tall figure and signature haircut across the room, talking to two other dark-haired men in nice suits. Grace edged her way around the dancing crowd, satin dress billowing behind her as she walked up behind him and slipped her arm through his.

"Hello darling, sorry I'm late." Grace said with a wide smile before planting a quick kiss on Tommy's freshly shaven cheek.

"Early, actually, love." Tommy put a hand on the small of her back, ignoring the brief tension between them as he cleared his throat and introduced her, "Grace, this is Harry & Gregory Williamson, they run a business together and we were just talking about some of our upcoming American ventures."

"Am I early? I hadn't noticed," she lied. Grace gave the sharply dressed men a quick once over and confirmed her assumption that they were partners in more than just business. Giving them a warm smile, she introduced herself. "Grace Burgess, a pleasure to meet you."

"What a beautiful thing you are, Tommy mentioned that you'll have a ring on your finger soon. It's nice to meet another power couple." said Gregory, after introducing himself. He gave her a quick wink and Grace laughed along with Henry, squeezing Tommy's arm.

"That's what I've been teased with, yes." Grace was sure Tommy's hand could have been burning a hole through her dress. Tommy said nothing as he scanned the room for something or someone, and Grace internally cringed at the silence while keeping her smile unwavering.

"Well…we'll leave you two alone, Grace please stop by our table later. Lovely to meet you." Henry piped up, cutting the tension. Grace let them kiss her hand before they turned to walk away.

"Can you at least pretend to listen? What is wrong with you?" Grace hissed through her teeth, smile still wide as she waved back at Sir Hutton's (very young) apparent new "au pair", code for mistress.

Tommy's hand quickly shifted to Grace's arm as the music changed, moving her smoothly into a corner by the bar, his other hand waving to the bartender. "I told you to text me when you got to the track."

"My phone died." Grace retorted raising one eyebrow sarcastically, knowing that Tommy knew she was lying. Of course.

"Your phone died at 10 A.M., Grace?" Tommy's eyes were on fire, but at least they had a touch of amusement for their banter.

"I'm telling you, these iPhones get bigger but the batteries get smaller. So, how are the horses?"

Tommy grabbed a champagne for Grace off a waiter passing by, ignoring her question that was just for show anyway. As he turned back to her his eyes caught whoever he had been looking for before, and his eyes took on a whole new kind of burning. "Listen, I have something to do, but I'll meet you and everyone else right before the race."

"What are you talking about? What about brunch? I-"

"Grace, please, I seriously need to go, okay? Fuck these people and the brunch, text everyone to meet you in our box and I'll have it delivered there. I have to go, the boys just got here."

Grace flared, she couldn't keep this up anymore. "What is going on? What are you keeping from me?" She was thankful they were in a corner and no one could hear them, or see the Irish bursting in her face in a dark-pink blush.

Grabbing her shoulders Tommy spun Grace around quickly, resting his chin on her shoulder and pointing ahead at an older man in a tuxedo with salt and pepper hair.

"I have a meeting with that man. It's more American business. Business and I need to get it over with toda- "

Grace turned back to him briskly, champagne sloshing on her silk glove. "How nasty _is_ this business? Are you trying to give me an anxiety attack? Thomas Michael Shelby-"

Cupping her face, Tommy shook her face slightly before cutting her off, his voice harsh "Grace, I seriously have to do this right now. I swear on everything Gracie, it's not nasty business like you think. I love you but we are talking about this later." Without looking at her again, Tommy walked away, straightening his tie. John, Arthur, and Michael were already on their way across the carpeted dining area, heading towards the same nasty business Tommy was with a swagger.

Quietly raging, Grace didn't waste a moment standing at the scene of their semi-noticeable argument, and quickly ducked through the entrance to the kitchen, pretending to be lost when harshly accented voices chided her. Back in the lobby, she stepped into an empty space between the regal columns and stared at the painted ceiling while attempting to slow her beating heart. The taste of metal crept into her mouth as she tried not to flashback, tried not think about what had happened the last time Tommy had nasty business. After breathing long and slow for a while, she pulled her phone out and dialed Ada.

"We're skipping the brunch. Come to our box. I'm doing some drinking today." Her voice echoed, apparently on speakerphone, and she heard Isiah and Finn whoop loudly in the background as she carried her confident frame up the grand staircase.

* * *

"He's just so fuckin' selfish sometimes, you know?" Grace slurred, elbow resting on Ada's shoulder as she stuffed another salmon puff in her mouth. The girls and Arthur, who had just returned from Tommy's mysterious business, were sprawled on the cream colored couch of their box's parlor. They faced the glass wall that looked out over the race track, which was now full as the start grew closer.

"I know, I know. I so know, I so know." Ada hiccupped. She sat on the floor, leaned back on Arthur's legs, staring out the window at the infield with her mouth open slightly, flicking the straw of her now empty drink around with her tongue.

Meghan, who had her legs across Grace and Arthur's laps was drunkenly humming along to the New Order song coming from their box's personal speakers as she texted someone that Grace assumed was John, furiously. Waving to the waiter that was serving them, she piped up "Can we get some more champagne? I need another drink before I go make out with my husband in whatever broom closet he's apparently waiting for me in like an idiot."

"Ugh, gross, you guys always do this." Ada squealed.

"Certainly, Mrs. Shelby." The well-groomed man nodded his head towards Meghan and stepped out through the service entrance with a slight smirk.

Arthur high-fived Meghan with a hoarse laugh before turning to Grace. "You're gonna be a Mrs. Shelby soon, y'know"

"You know something, Arthur, you're the second person to say something about that to me today. I'll be Mrs. Shelby if I don't kill your brother before I can get there." The sentence came out more aggressive than she meant it to and she shrugged at herself.

Arthur nudged her semi-reassuringly, as reassuring as Arthur Shelby could be, at least. "Easy there drunky, ease up on him. The business ain't as bad as you think it is. It went real fuckin' well today alright? He's gonna tell you about it. You know how he is."

Breaking glass and a burst of laughter ended their conversation as Finn's glass hit the gold striped wallpaper, Isiah having had dodged it nimbly. Unconcerned with their usual obnoxiousness, Grace lifted Meghan's legs off of her. "I need some air; I'll be back before the race starts."

Stumbling slightly, she walked into the narrow hallway that all the owner's box's stemmed off of, scratching her head and trying to remember if the veranda was to the left or to the right. Grace picked the right and walked mindlessly. The hallway emptied slowly as she heard the familiar call of the trumpets, signaling the start of the race.

Tommy suddenly appeared at the end the hallway, turning on his heel quickly as he picked up his speed after rounding the corner. Spotting her, his eyebrows raised in half-amusement, half-annoyance as he took in the weave of Grace's walking. She melted slightly, he was too handsome for his own good. Picking up her pace, she walked towards him, just wanting to forget their fight and enjoy the race.

"How many drinks have you had?" _So much for my melting_ , Grace thought, his question and tone raising her attitude again.

"Why should I tell you? You don't tell me things."

The gunshot fired at the starting line, and a speeding voice over the speakers began the commentary of the race.

 _And they're off!_

"Christ, Grace. You've always picked your times. I'm going to tell you. You know I'm going to tell you, when have I not eventually told you? Where the fuck is this coming from?"

"Well," she clipped "You keep saying you're going to tell me but you don't, so…" Grace threw her hands up slightly, and she saw Tommy try to hold in his chuckle at her influenced state.

 _Any Luck has a strong start, with No Sense or Sensibility close behind coming up on the inside!_

"Don't you laugh at me Thomas Michael."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Can we please go watch the race Gracie, please?" He grabbed her hands and brought them to his chest, sharp eyes pleading with her. Grace stared back at him, briefly mesmerized by the small oceans she never could grow tired of. The truth was in there somewhere, and she felt it.

"Tell why there's 7,000 pounds sitting in a temporary account."

Pressing his forehead to hers he scrunched his eyes shut and groaned. "You weren't supposed to see that. Please, Gracie, can we talk about this when you're sober?"

 _Dandy Flower and Young Blood passing into the middle of the field now, flying by Castle Black!_

" _I wasn't supposed to see it?_ What is this, Thomas? Can I not know about this because it's illegal? Are we going backwards? After all we've been through?" Grace's voice rose and she pulled her hands out of his grasp.

"Jesus Christ." Tommy stared at the floor, now pressing his fingers on his temples, but Grace didn't slow down.

 _Coming up on the inside, passing the front-runners in the home stretch is Persephone Season!_

"I'm _sorry_ okay, Thomas? But when I see that much money moving that quickly in and out in a week-"

"You wanna know what the fucking money is for, Grace?" Tommy's volume rose to drown out her voice and Grace stared at him expectantly, waving her hands in the air again impatiently.

 _Persephone has it! She has it!_

"It's for your fucking _ring_ ,Grace. It's for your fucking _ring._ I'm buying it this week. Was supposed to be a bloody fuckin' surprise." He muttered the last part, flashing his eyes in annoyance.

A stupid smile of disbelief crossed her face and she was sure her heart exploded. Grace dropped her empty champagne glass, it hit the carpet without a sound. "Wh-what?"

"Yeah. Okay? Ya fucking happy now? Honestly. Women, for fuck's sake." He muttered to himself again, pulling a cigarette out for them to share.

Grace reached forward with a squeal and smacked the cigarette out of his hands before throwing her arms around his neck, watching his irritation instantly fade with her in his arms. "Damn you, Thomas Shelby."

 _It's Persephone Season by a long shot! Persephone Season wins!_

Tommy slammed his lips into hers as the crowd exploded, and dipped Grace over until her hair brushed the floor. Their family's yelling rang down the hallway, louder than anyone else's as usual. Grace felt the celebration in her bones as her and Tommy laughed into each other's mouths, thinking that the stadium could have exploded and they wouldn't have noticed.


	4. Chapter Three

_Hi everyone! I'm not super proud of this chapter, it's a little choppy and I'm sorry, but I've been out of it the past couple days. I really just wanted to get you all some Tommy x Grace fluff in lieu of the Peaky Blinders darkness recently. But please review and let me know what you think, and as always thank you so much for reading xx_

* * *

 _Sometimes (I Wish) - City and Colour_

 _It Don't Mean a Thing (Marcus Parcali Remix) - Tolemada Project (This is kind of a club song and not really easy listening, but it's what was playing in my head as I wrote, so it's what our precious Shelby's were hearing as well)_

 _Dangerous Animals - Arctic Monkeys_

* * *

Chapter Three

Grace blinked her eyes awake as she felt Tommy shift by her side, the arm that was draped over her pulling her closer to his sleeping body. The Shelby's G5 roared over the Atlantic, and the only sound Grace could hear over the jet engines was the theme song of The Office, blasting from John's phone across the aisle, although both him and Meghan had fallen asleep an hour ago. Sleeping Peaky bodies littered the plane. Tommy had decided to bring everyone to New York as a mini-vacation for the family after the stress of the Derby, while he was on business visiting Aunt Pol. Ada and Arthur slept on the far seats, Isiah and Michael stretched out across from them on opposite ends, feet in each other's faces. Finn was passed out in the plane's bathroom, thanks to too many mini-bottles of liquor. He wouldn't be thrilled when he saw himself on Isiah's Snapchat story when he woke up. But the caption of "amateur hour" was fitting, Grace thought.

Tommy shifted again, cramped in the seats of their jet liner, his tall body used to their king-sized bed. Burying his face deeper in Grace's hair, his steady breaths washed over her, hot and smelling like him. Grace shut her eyes and covered his arm with hers, wishing it was just them, wishing they were on their way to a true vacation & not his business. Tommy murmured her name in his sleep as she squeezed his hand.

They had been on cloud nine since the engagement, almost a month ago now, two months since the Derby. Grace slid the large teardrop-shaped diamond back and forth on her finger in the dark, smiling softly as she remembered their Derby fight. A month later to the day, Tommy had planned an entire day of her favorite things for her before asking her to be his wife in the Garrison, filled with almost 300 candles. He had lit them all himself, one-by-one. Grace had laughed hard at the visual of that. The already-drunk brothers had had their ears pressed to the window, and after they'd heard Grace tearfully say yes, had stormed in and almost burned the bar down. Thankfully the Garrison was still standing. Tommy had been furious but Grace couldn't help but laugh, it was typical of the family she was marrying into, after all.

It was unbelievable to her that almost eight years ago now Tommy had strolled up to her in that pub for the first time. He had blinked at her coldly, Grace remembered thinking that he hated her. After asking for a bottle of whiskey, he had sneered slightly at her before making a phone call and walking away. Almost five years ago now Tommy had drunkenly admitted, post-coitus, that he had faked the phone call because he hadn't known what else to do with his usually-confident-self when Grace's eyes had met his.

Tommy stirred once more, awakening this time. He rolled on top of her with eyes still closed, groaning into her neck. Grace laughed as he laid his weight on top of her. "Fall asleep on top of me and you'll suffocate your future Mrs. Shelby"

"Mm, Mrs. Shelby. That sounds nice." His voice was dry and crackly with sleep and the air of the plane cabin. "We've been members of the Mile High Club for a while, but shall we pay it a visit?" Tommy's teeth grazed Grace's collarbone and she gasped slightly, looking across the carpeted aisle at John and Meghan's sleeping bodies, The Office still playing on the screen beyond their faces.

"I believe we haven't christened this particular seat yet, Mr. Shelby." Grace laughed as quietly as possible into Tommy's ear as he pulled the privacy curtain around their pair of seats. Private jets did have their perks.

* * *

The Shelby's stood on the long escalator in J.F.K airport at varying levels as it rose slowly upwards, suitcases and bags between them. Jet lag had made them all cranky, and the group was mostly silent, which was a rare event. The only semi-loud one was Finn, who had woken up in the plane bathroom, still quite drunk.

"Hey…remember when we were all poor and couldn't afford to go to New York City?" Finn said with a slight slur, staring out the glass-wall to their left with wide eyes, pouring a bag of crisps into his mouth. His youth still showed sometimes, and Grace missed the little Finn she used to take care of, he'd been only as tall as her hips, her little buddy. Now he was almost two whole heads taller than she was. And wasted.

A very grumpy Arthur, who was wearing sunglasses inside at 9 P.M., responded with a growl, "Great fuckin' story Finn, really incredible, now shut up."

Grace buried her face into Tommy's chest, her arms wrapped around him under his coat. Shutting her eyes, she almost fell asleep standing up as he played with her hair. But her eyes snapped open when Michael, who was at the front of the herd and had actually fallen asleep standing up, crashed off the end of the escalator as it reached the top, his Ted Baker luggage toppling to the ground along with him. Isiah's distinct laugh filled the air snapping everyone out of their dazes, and the Shelby's quickly reclaimed their usual title of the loudest people in any given room.

"Alright, alright, fuckin' get up" Tommy huffed. Michael was still on the floor laughing hysterically, the family struggling to step over him as they reached the ground floor. "I texted you all the address to the hotel. We're all in the Penthouse of the Ritz, there's enough rooms for all of us. Go out, do whatever, fuck off. Just don't get arrested. The Fairchild's party is at 8 P.M. tomorrow, we're going at 9."

Tommy was tired and annoyed, the shadows under his eyes making him look more intimidating than usual. He held Grace's hand loosely, brow furrowed as he attempted to summon an Uber on his iPhone. With a gruff tone, not looking at her, he asked Grace quietly "Are you going out tonight?"

"No, I want me and you time." Grace rubbed her nose against his cheek in an attempt to make him smile, which almost worked. "I figured we can lock our door and pretend to be asleep after ordering room service and a movie?"

Tommy's eyes softened with gratitude, and he kissed her quickly. "That sounds perfect. Fuck the Uber I'm getting a taxi."

Five minutes later Tommy, Grace, and Ada were squished in the yellow cab, the only three uninterested in sampling New York City's alcohol collection, as if it would be any different from home. Apparently jet lag went away when tempted with a night of drinking, and "easy American girls", as Arthur had so eloquently described them. Grace hoped Finn would make it back alive. Ada slept on Tommy's shoulder, his other arm around Grace. Jet lag was making her delirious, and she couldn't even appreciate the skyline as they sped towards their hotel.

"Who woulda thought we'd be here, eh?" Tommy peered past her out the window, his voice in her ear making her even sleepier. Squeezing his knee, Grace laid her head back in the crook of his neck as they both looked at the glittering city.

Later that night, after stuffing their faces with expensive room service, Tommy and Grace laid in the all-white hotel bed, ignoring the drunken knocks on their door as they pretended to be asleep. They stifled their laughter in each other's skin as John demanded they open the door so he could use their shower, even though there were seven other ones in their huge hotel suite. Grace was grateful Tommy was laughing, the sound still surprised her sometimes. The laughs he had with her were different than the others.

But eventually their hammered family found their way to slumber, and Grace and Tommy started to as well. After putting their sleep playlist on, a half-asleep Tommy lips pressed to her hairline, murmuring "I don't want to go to this fuckin' party tomorrow, Gracie. Remember how much we used to want to be in there with the toffs? Remember this song? I just want to be at home with yo..." His voice trailed off as he fell into sleep, holding Grace tightly. Grace thought her heart was going to explode as she followed after him, the soft City and Colour reminding her of when they used to sleep on a twin mattress, one blanket for them both, laughing no less than they did now in the Presidential Suite of the Ritz.

* * *

The Shelby's crammed into the gilded elevator raucously, a whirlwind of laughter, cologne, perfume, smoke, swearing, and silk. They barely fit, filling the elevator to the brim. After taking a laughter-filled group selfie, 8 attempts in total, in the mirrored ceiling of the ornate space, Tommy cleared his throat before telling everyone to shut up.

"Now listen up, fuckers." Tommy stood in front of them, back to the elevator doors as it flew upwards. "You will behave yourselves tonight. All of you. No fucking cocaine in the bathroom, no more than 4 drinks while we're here, no trying to steal people's wives, and _no fucking fighting_. Oi, Isiah, John, look at me. No fucking fighting. Some of us are working, and _all_ of us are making a fucking impression. Alright? Keep yourselves contained, save your bullshit for the after party."

Arthur piped up, pointing his unlit cigar at John and Meghan, "If I may add? If you two insist on fuckin' in coat check make sure no one bloody sees you this time"

Meghan rolled her eyes as John wiggled his eyebrows, saying something that was most likely crass in Romani to his older brother. Simultaneously, Michael kicked the back of Finn's knee, sending him flying forward into the elevator panel, his face smashing the brass numbered floor buttons. Tommy pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, turning back around and staring at the elevator doors after taking sliding his arm through Grace's, his jaw clenched. His handsome reflection disappeared as the doors opened 6 floors too soon, thanks to Finn's face. The elevator filled with a mixture of laughter and complaints as the gold doors continued to open and close on every single floor, taking them to the roof much slower than expected.

Looking up at her fiancé, Grace rubbed his back, the smooth fabric of his gray suit jacket sliding under her hand. "Don't worry. 2 hours and we're out of here. I'll be your buffer, and I promise I'll keep track of everyone's names so you don't have to."

Tommy peered down at her gratefully with an amused smirk, jaw finally unclenching. "What would I do without you, eh? Have I told you how amazing you look, by the way? That dress looks like it was made for you"

Grace raised an eyebrow with a smile "Quite a few times now, Mr. Shelby. And that's because it was."

"Well what's one more time then." Tommy bent down to leave a kiss on Grace's smiling lips as the elevator doors slid open once more, finally on the correct floor. Finn exaggeratedly pushed them apart to run onto the rooftop, and a laughing Isiah trailed after him towards the bar.

John and Arthur whooped, following the younger Peakys to the drinks. Ada and Meghan linked arms and headed for the railing to look at the lit up skyline and take more pictures. Tommy and Grace stood outside the elevator, Grace observing, Tommy analyzing, their usual arrival routine.

The summer air was thick, but the breeze from being up so high on the skyscraper made it pleasant. The rooftop party was glittering and sleek, society's elite in fine suits and expensive dresses, Grace even recognized a few faces from the tabloids she saw at the store. The feel of the bar was electric as club music pounded through the air, and it elevated Grace's mood, while seemingly lowering Tommy's.

"Tommy! Grace!" Henry and Gregory Williamson, the couple Grace had met at the Derby, waved to them enthusiastically from across the dark-wooden floor.

"Christ." Tommy muttered, pulling out a cigarette for them to share as Grace waved back with a wide smile.

"Oh come on, grumpy. Let's say hi." Grace pulled on his arm slightly and he reluctantly followed, blinking in annoyance before warming & smiling ever so slightly at his bubbly fiancée. "There we go. It's a party, isn't it?"

"Yeah, yeah." Tommy muttered, allowing her to pull him while he looked over his shoulder at a group of men standing in a circle in the far corner, smoking cigars.

Ignoring his business-mind, Grace took the lead and crossed the floor towards the Williamson's, the men having now sat at one of the small circles of stylish couches. After hand-shaking, cheek kissing, and being introduced to the Williamson's friends, Grace sat down between the couple, Tommy standing behind her with one hand on her shoulder.

"That _ring_ , girl!" Greg took her left hand and fawned over it, Grace smiled with as much humility as possible. "Some women I know would sell their first-borns for a rock like this."

"Gregory!" Henry exclaimed with an eye roll. "I'm sorry about my husband, Mrs. Shelby. Can I call you that now?"

"It's quite alright. And please do, I like the sound of it." Grace laughed.

Time passed as the group had fun, the rest of the family had come over to join. Bottle service came to their table via a hand wave from Tommy, and Grace felt herself relax around Manhattan's elite thanks to the icy Grey Goose. One of the Williamsons' friends was an editor at Vogue magazine, and Grace and Ada were entranced by trendy wedding dress conversation when they were interrupted.

"Ah the Shelby family, glad you could come. Gents, great to see you again." Grace looked up to see the same salt-and-pepper-haired man that Tommy had met with at the Derby, staring at Tommy with a look Grace couldn't decipher before his dark eyes fell on the girls. "You must be Meghan, Ada, and Grace, I presume." He pointed to each of them as he said their names, his gold-ring embellished finger lingering on Grace. "Patrick Fairchild, it's an honor."

Something about the man instantly didn't sit right with Grace, and she now knew why Tommy had told her he didn't trust these people when the two of them had talked after the Derby. Patrick's presence made her think of a spider on the ceiling, that she always wanted to look at it out of the corner of her eye so she knew where it was, just in case. Grace stood and gave the older man a reserved smile, Tommy's hand drifting to her lower back, not leaving her. "Yes, Grace Burgess. A pleasure to meet you Mr. Fairchild. A lovely party, thank you for having us"

Kissing the girls' hands, he gestured back to the couches they had risen from "Please, sit. Ladies don't stand for men in the buildings I own. But the pleasure is all mine, it's an honor to have racetrack royalty in my midst." Patrick made air quotes with his fingers when he dragged out the word royalty, saying the sentence like a punchline.

Grace froze as tension flooded the air, Patrick's tone loaded with sarcasm. John and Arthur shifted in their seats with aggression and Meghan put her hand on the back of her husband's neck. Ada downed her drink in one gulp and Michael tried to hold in his laughter, forever thinking that tense situations were funny. The second that passed felt like an hour. Thankfully The Williamson's and their friends weren't listening, and Thomas never missed a beat.

"Ah, I'm nothing but a pauper in the presence of the man that owns half of Manhattan, Mr. Fairchild. Or should I say, swindled his way into half of Manhattan?" Tommy said, stepping around the couch to stand by Grace's still-standing figure. His eyes were squinted slightly, and he tipped his drink towards the cocky kingpin standing in front of them. The two men stared at each other as the brothers watched them both carefully.

"You have a good sense of humor across the pond, you Peaky Blinders. That's what they used to call you, right?" Patrick said, and for some reason he winked directly at Grace. Tommy's hand unconsciously clenched the fabric of her dress which fortunately no one could see.

It was Grace now that spoke, much to everyone's surprise, with a toothy smile. "Oh, they still do. Is this how you treat guests you invited from almost 6,000 kilometers away?" Tommy snorted slightly next to her, and although she couldn't see it, Grace knew he had a smug smirk plastered on his chiseled face.

Patrick's almost-black eyes widened slightly, his strong front wavering ever so briefly. Grace could get high off of watching powerful men falter in front of her and Tommy. But it didn't last long, and Patrick let out a booming laugh. He randomly clapped Isiah, who was to his right, on the shoulder before backpedaling over his words smoothly. "Only when I'm joking, Ms. Burgess. You've got yourself a fiery one, Mr. Shelby. I'm very happy to have you all here, and I'm glad we've all evolved to doing our business honestly, which I'm looking forward to doing with The Peaky Blinders. Cigars, boys?"

Michael had now burst out laughing at Isiah's confused, borderline insulted expression, which would have been more comical if Grace had been able to appreciate it. The rest of the group joined in uneasily, grateful that the loaded moment had passed. Tommy and Grace exchanged an unnoticeable glance, knowing that Mr. Fairchild was far from joking.

"Certainly, you're among jokers with us as well Mr. Fairchild. Lads?" Tommy kissed Grace's ear quickly before leading the men away after Patrick, who didn't look at Grace again.

Grace smirked as she sunk back into the couch, twirling Meghan's sleek ponytail in her fingers, who looked rather shaken as she threw her drink back. "Don't worry, Meg. They're fine. It's all legal, Patrick is just a dick. It'll be over soon. Tommy knows what he's doing."

"I know, I know. I just don't need John bloody fighting on vacation. We're on, what, a 6-day streak of no fighting now?"

Ada rolled her eyes before pushing herself off the couch gracefully. "Yeah, the longest streak of all time I think. I'll get us more drinks."

The Williamsons' ushered the girls back into their conversation, talking now about the American presidential race, which Grace found equal parts disconcerting and hilarious.

Ada never returned with drinks, and left Meghan with their new friendsto go looking for her. She moved through the boisterous crowd, and after getting momentarily distracted by the very sensual sight of Tommy puffing on a cigar across the deck, spotted Ada at the far end of the busy bar. As she grew closer she smiled, Ada had gotten lost thanks to a very well-dressed and attractive man. Not wanting to interrupt, while hoping Ada's brothers wouldn't either, Grace stopped short and ducked into a space on the bar, waving to the bartender. After giving her order she perched herself on a bar stool, waiting patiently and fiddling with her earring, humming along to the Arctic Monkeys that had begun playing.

Perfume filled Grace's nose and she sensed the approaching woman who sidled up to her. Tall with dark hair, she was strikingly beautiful, and dripping in diamonds. More than Grace usually went for, but they suited the young woman nonetheless. The women exchanged a warm smile. The brunette waved to the bartender but he ignored her as he sped by, hands full. "Ugh, honestly. How long have you been waiting?" The woman's voice was light, with an American accent.

"Not too long, but hopefully not much longer, either." Grace replied, and they both laughed.

"Georgina Fairchild."

Grace absorbed the last name but said nothing. "Grace Burgess, nice to meet you."

"You as well. I love your dress. Chanel?" Georgina's dark eyes flicked over Grace's seated silhouette.

"Yes, good eye. I have a weakness for Chanel."

"I know that weakness all too well." The women laughed.

As Georgina turned to attempt to catch the bartender's attention again, Grace gave her a scan. Obviously from good money, obviously a Fairchild. Remembering Tommy's words, Grace decided not to trust her either.

Grace's drinks came, and she said goodbye to Georgina kindly before sliding out of her chair, but she didn't get very far, almost spilling the whiskeys all over Tommy, who stood behind the bar stool she had just been in.

"There you are babe, give me a hand?"

Georgina spoke up, to Grace's surprise. "Mr. Shelby, I was wondering when you would finish your cigar."

Tommy cleared his throat, taking one of Grace's two drinks as her eyes quickly danced between Tommy and the female Fairchild. Nodding at Georgina he said "Yes, well, your fathers' fine Cubans burn slowly. Grace, this is-"

"We just met," Georgina clipped, no longer giving Grace so much of a glance. "I wasn't aware you were a taken man, Mr. Shelby. A shame, truly. But relationships are so fickle and easily broken in this day and age though, aren't they? I'm sure I'll be seeing much more of you soon."

Grace raised her eyebrows and her smile became forced as Tommy's free hand flew to her elbow, pulling her towards him slightly. _Funny how worthless small talk can be_ , she thought. With a sweet tone, Grace commanded Georgina's attention. "It is a shame. For you, at least, Georgina. We'll be sure to invite you to our wedding. Seems as if you haven't had our luck though, have you tried Tinder?"

"Grace…" Tommy said through gritted teeth, pulling her into her chest and sloshing Meghan's drink slightly. Georgina laughed a tinkling laugh and said nothing, still not looking at Grace. She took her recently-arrived drink from the bartender, winking at Tommy before strolling away towards the opposite side of the bar.

Grace chugged her drink in three gulps before slamming it on the bar. Seemed like everyone in the family had done that at least once tonight. "You know, Thomas, I must say, these New York people are just fantastic."

Tommy brought his face down to hers and put his hands on both sides of her face after setting Meghan's drink down, thumbs rubbing her cheekbones gently. "Gracie, you know I didn't give her any ideas. She's Patrick's daughter. Sidled up to us. Took John's cigar right out of his mouth and started bloody smokin' it. These people are-"

"I know, I trust you." Grace sighed before grabbing Tommy's lapels and kissing him, not caring who saw as their kiss deepened for a few long moments. Except for Georgina. Grace hoped she saw. "I trust you. But you can't expect me to say nothing to these people."

"You wouldn't be the woman I loved if you said nothing. Nothing went much better in my conversations with Patrick." Spitting the last word, he looked back towards the circle he came from with a sneer. "I'm done with these fucking people for the night, Michael, Pol and I are meeting with them in the morning for particulars anyway. Can we get out of here? You and me?"

Grace nodded as he gazed at her with soft eyes. "Me and you. Let me bring Meghan her drink and get my bag"

Grace made up a quick excuse to her sister as to why they were leaving, and winked at Ada who was still talking to her mysterious suitor. From across the bar, Patrick caught her eye and raised his glass to her, deep in a conversation with Michael. Grace smiled politely and turned away, crossing the floor back to her future husband, ready to wash her hands of this obnoxious family.

Right before the elevator doors slid shut, John threw his hand between them, Meghan's in his other one. Toothpick in his mouth and suit jacket apparently missing, John huffed, "Fuck these crazy people, can the four of us please all go get drunk?"

"Our first double date in America?" Meghan coaxed

Grace and Tommy exchanged a glance, the stress from the night on both of their faces. They nodded unnoticeably at each other before Tommy said "Deal. First round's on me for bringing us here in the fuckin' first place."

Meghan laughed and took Grace's hand, all of them a chain now as the elevator flew towards the lobby. "Second round is on John for letting that bitch smoke his cigar."

Grace rolled her eyes, "I second that, I have a feeling she's worse than her father."

Tommy nudged Grace and smirked, one eyebrow raised "And you let her know it. 'You should try Tinder?' I was proud."

"You did not say that!" John said, a burst of laughter soon following. "Grace with her Irish up might be my fuckin' spirit animal."

As the group left the lobby and strolled down the street into the city night, Tommy relayed their encounter with Georgina with uncanny recall, his imitation of Georgina's voice so good that Grace cried from laughing.


	5. Chapter Four

_How We Breathe - Pinback_

 _Dead Leaves & the Dirty Ground - The White Stripes _

_Climbing Up the Walls - Radiohead_

* * *

Chapter Four

Grace pushed the glass door to her and Michael's office open and rolled her eyes when she saw him sleeping with his feet up on his marble-topped desk, passed out even with their Monday morning playlist on full blast from his iMac. Grace sighed when she heard the song that was playing, she had liked it once. Every song they put on the playlist they ended up hating by Monday-association until they took it off, Grace wasn't sure why they even tried anymore.

Grace kicked Michael's desk as she threw her Kate Spade bag onto her own, they weren't very far apart in the office meant for one. When the new Shelby Bros. Ltd. building had opened a year ago, Tommy had graced his two main accountants with separate offices. But they'd missed each other and working in the same room, and they texted each other all day anyway, so Michael and Grace decided to merge offices after a long night of working late. Whiskeys, fatigue, and poor traction had made moving the heavy furniture difficult, a massive hole in the hallway to prove it. Grace's stocking feet had slid and Michael's desk had slammed into the wall, cracking through the navy paint of the accounting floor's hallway. Michael had jokingly hung a gold picture frame around the hole, commemorating it forever.

"Something funny?" Michael said, yawning and sliding on a pair of Ray-Bans, even though it was 8:00 in the morning.

"God, you're like Arthur. We have morning meeting in 30 minutes. I brought you a coffee." Setting Michael's Starbucks on his desk, Grace kicked his desk again just for emphasis before looking down at her vibrating phone. _Speaking of Arthur_ , she thought.

 _ARTHUR: Can you close the Garrison tonight? Caitlin called out. Please Grace? I have Lily tonight or else I'd do it myself._

Grace started to complain to herself but immediately felt bad for doing so. Arthur almost never saw his 4-year-old daughter Lily, his divorce hadn't left him on the better end of a custody agreement. It wasn't a surprise at the time, but now he deserved far more time with the little ray of sunshine than he got.

 _GRACE: Of course I will. I can be there by 5:30. Are you coming in today?_

 _ARTHUR: You're the best. I owe you. I'll be in the office midday, I gotta open. Cait was a fucking double, of course. Call me during morning meeting and put it on speakerphone. Love you sister._

 _GRACE: Love you too._

Grace cocked her head as she sat down, covering her annoyance with a smile. "Your little girlfriend called out of a double shift today, again."

"Not my girlfriend. And it's probably because I kept her up late." Michael winked and threw a balled up receipt at Grace, who swatted it back towards him.

"Gross, I have to cover for her now so thanks for that. When does your mom fly in this morning?" Her voice was light. Too light.

"11. You sound excited." Michael gave her his barely-there smirk before turning his attention to his phone.

Grace said nothing. If Polly was in the office she would most likely head to the Garrison earlier than 5:30. Perhaps sometime around 11.

Grace logged into her iMac, a picture of the whole family on vacation in Bali from last year flooding her desktop screen, all tans and smiles. It was right after they went legal, and for most them, it was their first actual vacation. The Peaky Blinders had taken off for two weeks for the first time in 9 years with a beach house, a yacht, and more alcohol than was probably safe. Celebrating the danger finally passing. At least that's what they told themselves it was, in order to justify doing nothing but getting liver damage in the sun for two weeks, which some of the boys had decided to turn into three.

Grace opened the accounting database and started organizing everything she needed to show Tommy this morning, making sure she didn't forget anything. For some reason intuition told her to be on top of things today. Michael did the same, their brief but comfortable silence covered up by their playlist moving on to the next song. Her iPhone buzzed once more and she flashed her eyes in irritation. Between the jet lag, now having to bartend until midnight, and the pile of emails she had to answer, Monday was living up to its reputation. Thankfully it was Tommy, and Grace exhaled with a little noise, to which Michael knowingly rolled his eyes and mimicked her, "gross", previously directed at him.

"Your Irish accent is a tragedy"

"The real tragedy here is that that it's been 8 years and you and Tommy are still in your bloody honeymoon phase." Michael muttered, squinting at his screen again.

Grace laughed and opened Tommy's message, ignoring the group chat that was beginning to buzz with what Grace could only assume was either John and Meghan fighting because they were in separate rooms, or Finn taking a poll on whether he should skip class or not.

 _MR. SHELBY: Where are you?_

 _GRACE: In my office. Why?_

 _MR. SHELBY: Come to the board room before everyone gets here. I have to tell you something._

 _GRACE: Five minutes._

Grace logged off, finishing her Starbucks before picking her bag up and walking around her desk. "I'm going to meet Tommy, I'll see you in twenty." Michael made some kind of noise of recognition, brow furrowed as he stared at his spreadsheets.

Four flights of stairs later, having knocked at least 30 squats off of this evening's workout, Grace swung the door to the Shelby conference room open and strolled to the far end of their iconic oval meeting table, eyes on Tommy the whole time. Back to her, the blood-red silk of his suit vest was the only color against his white shirt, black hair, and the fog rising from the river outside as he gazed out the window. Grey mornings were Tommy's favorite.

Grace tossed her bag on her chair and ran up behind him, snaking her arms around his waist, tightening them slightly as he sighed. They swayed back and forth for a few moments until Grace broke the silence.

"So…"

"So." Tommy spun her around and kissed her before picking her up and setting her on the conference table. "I have to tell you something."

Grace leaned back and looked into her favorite blues, which looked like they were not carrying good news. She raised her freshly waxed eyebrows expectantly, squeezing Tommy's arms.

Tommy ticked his jaw and looked down at her for a moment. Thankfully he wasn't one for small talk and got to the point. "I need you, Meghan, and Ada to entertain Georgina Fairchild while they're in town next week."

Grace dropped her arms from him and leaned back on the table even more, pushing him away from her with her heel digging into his muscular leg. " _What?_ " she hissed. "Thomas fucking Michael-"

Grabbing her ankle in his hand, Tommy was clearly trying to stifle his laughter at her attitude which made Grace even more annoyed. "I know, I know. It's three days. That's it, I promise. Ada can do most of the entertaining, I already ran it by her. Just show your face once or twice, take her shopping, get her drunk at the Garrison, fuckin' whatever."

"Teach her how to respect other people's relationships, cut her, spend all my time trying to keep her away from you, fuckin' whatever" Grace mocked.

"Gracie," Tommy's shook his head in half warning, half amusement "This is important. If it goes well it'll be the last time we have to deal with these people in person, alright?"

"Fine. But I don't want her in our house, Thomas." Grace said, her own warning in her sharp eyes.

Gritting his teeth, Tommy grabbed her other ankle, anticipating the need to defend himself against her Jimmy Choos again in a moment. "That's kind of the other thing…I may or may not have offered up our guest rooms to accommodate them." He said it sheepishly, like a boy, and if Grace hadn't wanted to smack him she (maybe) would have smiled.

"Fucking _what?_ " Grace attempted to slide off the conference table to dig her heels in again but Tommy held her away by her shoes, failing to hold in a chuckle this time as she seethed in what he liked to call 'Gracie rage', which was Tommy's very irritating comparison to his own version of rage. "Don't you laugh at me right now Thomas Michael, I swear to god you will sleep on the couch until I feel comfortable looking at pictures of Michael Cera. You of all people know how far away that day is." She said, managing to yank her ankles out of his grip as he laughed harder, pressing her shoes to his chest as she leaned farther back onto her elbows.

The view of herself that Grace was now providing distracted Tommy for only a second, but at least he stopped laughing. He inhaled sharply, looking down at her, and his voice was almost a whisper. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, listen. Georgina is irrelevant after this, alright? Alright? This is about her father, and grandfather, wanting to invest _3 million fucking dollars_ in exchange for us letting them store money in an account with us. American corporations store their money in offshore accounts so they're exempt from the American tax laws in the-"

"She's already irrelevant, and I know how it works," Grace spat. She felt slightly guilty for being snarky to her fiancé, but at least the spark in his usually icy eyes reminded her that he was enjoying it. "Who's handling these accounts, me or Michael?"

"Both of you."

Grace sat up a little, sliding her shoes down his vest slowly as they stared at each other in a stalemate, the rain that was now pattering on the windows the only sound. 3 million dollars was a lot of money for one account, and at the end of the day this was unfortunately about business that she would be responsible for. "Is this legal Tommy? I don't care but I want to know."

"All of it. If the corporation ever goes down it doesn't matter, this money will still have been legal money and it's not ours anyway." Tommy said, his voice lowering further as he slid his hands down her calves, his thumbs tracing circles on her skin.

Grace said nothing, sitting up completely to brush off the dusty streak her shoes had left behind on Tommy's vest. He took her hands away and held them tightly in front of him, smirking slightly as Grace failed to hide her increasingly softening expression. It would be worth it. It was always worth it. Grace gave up the fight for good with a groan as Tommy leaned her backwards on the conference table and kissed her neck, murmuring into her skin. "I have some very generous and carnal ideas about how to make up for your troubles, Mrs. Shelby."

Grace laughed and wrapped her legs around Tommy's waist, ankles crossing. "Now for that, Mr. Shelby, I'll entertain my new best friend Georgina. I still have my acting skills I'm sure." Tommy snickered and bit her ear.

"Oh, I don't think anyone doubts that." An easily recognizable clipped voice rang from the doorway and Tommy's head snapped up. Grace didn't bother turning around, and stared at the ceiling like it was a camera on The Office as she reluctantly untangled her legs from around Tommy's body. While doing so, she thought about all the ways she was going to kill Michael for not knowing how to read.

Clearing his throat, Tommy stepped away from Grace after running a hand over his face. "Pol. Flight was good?"

"Super. Not as good as your morning, though, so it seems. Or at least as good as it was about to be. Apologies."

Grace smoothed her hair and turned around, smiling at the Shelby matriarch and shoving her attitude down deep for Tommy's sake. Good lord did he owe her. "Aunt Pol. Good to see you."

"Of course. Great shoes. Might want to check your top button though. Representing the company and whatnot." Polly gave her a once over with a cocked brow and her special pursed smile that she saved just for Grace before turning her attention to Tommy, hopefully for good. "Thomas, please tell me you saw my email."

Grace literally bit her tongue as she buttoned her blouse and gladly tuned out their conversation, staring out the window before dragging her bag towards her. Grace pulled out her phone and opened the "PEAKY FUCKIN' BLINDERS" group chat, ignoring the 37 unread messages in it that she missed.

 _GRACE: Michael, dearest. As I think of all the ways I could kill you with my bare hands, just wanted to inform you that your mother has arrived far earlier than you mentioned she would._

 _MEGHAN: Fuck. What, you're not happy to see our best friend? I'll be there soon so the hatred can be split more evenly between the two of us._

 _MICHAEL: She doesn't hate either of you and you know it, don't say shit like that. But yeah, it appears that I read the number wrong. I'm on my way up to buffer._

 _ADA: Good, thank god you don't literally read numbers for a living._

 _GRACE: ^Point. How does an accountant mix up 8:30 and 11?_

 _MICHAEL: Let's call it jet lag? I'm guessing by your level of sass that 1: you need another coffee, which I just got, no need to thank me, and 2: she cockblocked you and Tommy. She's always been a pro at that shit. I think she senses sin._

 _ISIAH: Speaking of which, someone remind me to hide the bong later before she comes over to check up on her precious baby's flat. She probably sensed it as soon as she got off the plane anyway but it's worth a try. We should've fucking cleaned. I'm parking I'll be up in five._

 _ISIAH: By the way Michael your girlfriend left shortly after you did this morning and she was wearing your favorite joggers #karma_

 _MICHAEL: SHE IS NOT MY GIRLFRIEND._

 _FINN: Not what I heard you calling her through the bloody wall last night. I hid the bong already. I'm skipping class to come bathe in the tension._

 _GRACE: Finn don't you dare._

 _FINN: Can't hear you, I'm going through a tunnel._

 _ADA: Oh honestly._

 _JOHN: This is going to be glorious._

 _ISIAH: WHO KEEPS STEALING MY FUCKING PARKING SPACE_

 _SCUD: Me, youngblood. Glad to know you're observant. Been driving the same car, that you've been in multiple times might I add, for a year now. You wouldn't last in the wild._

Grace laughed, Scudboat rarely contributed but when he did he made it count. Tommy, no doubt feeling the incessant buzzing of his phone in its usual home of his front pocket, looked away from Pol to raise a brow at Grace who felt his gaze and smiled back with her most innocent smile. Knowing her better far than that, he snorted before turning his attention back to his Aunt and their paperwork.

Grace tuned them out as their conversation hushed and switched to Romani, tapping her pen on her teeth as she double-checked her figures for the week. Michael came in minutes later and squeezed Grace's shoulder, dropping off her iced coffee and giving her his best attempt at a sympathetic look before going to greet his mother with his best attempt at an excited one.

The rest of the Peaky Blinders trickled in slowly, in ones and twos, the room growing louder as the oxblood leather chairs filled with bodies. Finn walked in with his backpack on and headphones around his neck, avoiding Grace and Ada's disapproving stares, hugging Pol and explaining to her and Tommy that his class had been cancelled. Grace rolled her eyes at hearing his lie, knowing he would be caught within the hour. Finn plopped down at the end of Grace's row, smiling while leaning forward to mouth _don't snitch, Burgess_. Grace placed a hand on her heart and shook her head slowly in mock disappointment, answering with a silent _didn't I teach you anything?_

Finn's face scrunched in confusion and John snapped his fingers at him to get his attention. Throwing his toothpick at his younger brother, he mouthed _group chat, motherfucker_ with a cocky grin, and Finn's rosy face turned white. Every one of them had forgotten Tommy was in the group chat at least once, with varying consequences, because he never said anything. Meghan covered her laughter with her hand as Finn knocked his forehead on the table repeatedly, lie sitting in the phone of his tuition-paying older brother.

Grace turned away from her conversation with Ada with a smile, catching Michael buttoning his suit jacket anxiously as he left Tommy and his mother to take his seat next to Grace, jaw like a rock as he glanced her at quickly. Grace opened her mouth to ask but he cut her off, his muttering falling beneath the louder chatter. "I need to talk to you."

Michael rarely sounded concerned about anything, and his voice was strained. Tommy's face showed nothing, nor did Polly's, but Grace didn't expect them to. Grace hid her stress just as easily while Tommy commanded attention at the head of the table, wishing she could call in his carnal favors right about now, maybe on a yacht in Bali.

* * *

Grace watched Tommy press his fingers to his temples, blinking at the piece of paper on his desk. Michael nudged the skipping Radiohead vinyl on Tommy's antique turntable for the 3rd time and the dark melody repeated, again. Grace had saved 3 weeks of tips from the Garrison to buy it for his birthday 4 years ago. The shopkeeper had been terrified of her, Thomas Shelby's girl, and tried to give it to her for free in his broken English, not understanding that Grace didn't want the gift unless she paid for it. Grace had to get John and Arthur to come with her to make the man accept her money, it took her almost half an hour to convince the two brothers that she was serious. Forcing someone to make a Blinder pay for something. A first for them all. But today Grace caught herself wishing it was turned off. Tommy's thinking music was equal parts ominous and anxiety inducing.

"Tom…" Polly started, but was stopped when her nephew released his pressure point to lift his hand in her direction, cutting her off without words

Grace caught Polly's eye and they exchanged a fleeting but mutual grimace before her eyes flicked to Michael, turned away from them now as he poured himself a whiskey. Tommy threw back his own before clearing his throat and swearing to himself.

"Alright. Here's what we're going to fucking do. The Fairchild's cannot know that we know this." Tommy's voice was low as his eyes bored into those of the three Peaky Blinders standing in his office one at a time, slate gray, to blue, to brown. "We have a week before they come here to sign the papers. It's plenty of time to get out in front of them and change the fine print in our favor. If we don't let on, their lawyer might not look at the contract again. We turn it around on them, and fuck them harder than they tried to fuck us."

"That's risky, Thomas. Why aren't we just refusing to bloody sign it? We can back out of the deal, no harm, no foul. Must we still live in the world of fucking people over?" Polly asked, her truth resounding off the walls as she said what Michael and Grace didn't want to say.

Tommy shook her words out of his head slowly, temples flexing as he clenched his jaw in time like a pulse, still staring at the piece of paper that sat on top of his never-ending pile. "It's doable. It's legal. We can get away with it, it'll put us 4 years ahead in projections and progress, in charge of New York City, and it'll give us political power. We can get away with it."

"Fucking Christ, Tommy." Polly sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose, resting her elbow on Tommy's black granite bookshelves that were built into the walls of his office.

Grace said nothing, caught between Polly's voice of reason and Tommy's voice of ambition. Their ambition. He was right, they could get away with it. The legal world was the exact same chess game as the illegal one they used to be masters of, the only thing that was different were the chess pieces. Vocabulary of legality, contracts, lawyers, fine print, and last but not least, the king of the legal world, loopholes. _King takes King. Checkmate._

Polly received an anonymous fax before she boarded her flight last night, warning the Shelby's about a turnover of epic proportions being planned by the Fairchild family. Grace had almost laughed when Tommy filled her in 10 minutes ago, thinking that an anonymous fax was a cheap ruse. But by the sound of things, it wasn't.

The fax was short and vague, hinting solely that the Shelby's shouldn't trust the Fairchild's, their lawyer, nor should they sign their impending business agreement. The attack was completely legal, hidden in the fine print of accounting details, and would completely liquidate Shelby Bros. Ltd.'s assets within the next two years. Grace swallowed the taste of metal back down her throat. _Nasty business._

It was Grace's turn to press a hand to her temple as she turned and walked to Tommy's granite bar. She wasn't normally one to indulge in the morning, it was only 10 A.M., but today was already calling for it.

"It could be bullshit. Grace and I don't get the final accounting contracts faxed to us until the day before they're supposed to be signed. We have no way of knowing until the fucking day before?" Michael said, Grace heard his footsteps cross the floor to Tommy's desk, probably reading the fax for the hundredth time. Grace's mind worked while she made Polly and Tommy fresh whiskeys as well. She balanced the three tumblers easily in her experienced hands as she turned around, shaking her head.

"If it's a fake-out, and the contract is sound, only an outside party would benefit from us not signing it, so they could have the Fairchild accounts for themselves. If they're not crossing us, Patrick wouldn't want anyone to know. No one knows the details of the deal except the four of us in this room, and their family, and all of us would want to keep it a secret if the Fairchild's meant well." Grace said, handing Tommy his whiskey first. His eyes were far away, but his thumb rubbed her hand before he broke away to turn and look out the window.

"Well, people do love to snitch." Polly said, her signature pursed smile aimed at Grace pointedly as she took the whiskey from her, which Grace now regretted pouring.

"Pol. Not. Now." Tommy growled.

Grace laughed and she saw Tommy tense knowingly, anticipating what usually followed this particular laugh of hers. Grace was in no mood. "I'm quite positive that my _fiancé_ doesn't want to liquidate his own company, neither does your son, who is to be second-in-command within three years. As for me, since that's what you're playing at, I found out about the details of the Fairchild deal two hours ago. My window of time for snitching doesn't exist, although I'm sure you wish it did. Still not enough though, is it? Still have to prove myself after 3 bullets taken for each other?"

"Grace. Not. Now. Polly drop it, throw the fucking gun in the canal. Both of you just fucking drop it. We don't have time for this." Tommy's yelled now, his voice practically shook the windows, and Grace shivered slightly. Polly stared into the rain with an unreadable face, refusing to look towards Grace. For once, Michael's signature tension-induced-laughter didn't make itself known.

"You need to call Alfie. He can get the contracts before we do. He should've been there in the first place." Michael broke the silence after what felt like an eternity, his voice confident, unafraid to reason with his cousin. Polly's eyes flashed to her son. She only came back every 3 months, for two weeks if that, and Michael's increasing comfortability with Tommy was clearly news to her. Grace took secret satisfaction in that, which she knew was petty, but she was seizing as many small victories against today as she could.

"Already done." Tommy turned back around, pointing his empty-again whiskey glass at each of them before continuing. "The four of us are meeting him tonight at the Garrison. We're closing it down, so Grace don't worry about your shift. And before you ask, yes Arthur is still seeing Lily tonight, I didn't tell him about this, just that he had the night off." Tommy's eyes softened for a fraction of a second when he looked at Grace, forever admiring the compassion in her that he tended to lack, but his affection was pushed to the side as he remembered the business at hand, what she knew ultimately boiled down to fear. Grace saw the fear come back, but it was translated into nothing but stress and anger. "That being said, until family dinner tomorrow night, nobody fuckin' hears about this. None of it leaves this fucking room. If you suddenly find yourself incapable of pretending this didn't happen, hide in your offices, leave early, I don't fucking care. I have things to do. When Alfie gives me a time for tonight, I'll tell you. Don't be late. Pol take this fucking paper and shred it. Right, go. Get out."

Grace and Michael were unfazed by Tommy's harsh directions, but Polly stared at him with apprehension. Glaring right back, he threw his hands up expectantly. "What?"

Pol took her time lighting a clove cigarette, and despite everything Grace had to admire her. The more impatient Tommy became, the slower she purposefully moved, completely uncaring. Finally exhaling a long trail of smoke towards her nephew, her serious voice grew quiet. "We all made sacrifices, big and small, to get where we are Thomas. The four of us in this room know it more than anyone. Don't drag us all into it again. We thought we knew who we were dealing with then, too. Whether you want to believe it or not, this isn't our world yet. You can't barge in. Knocking 4 years off your never-ending plan to rule the world isn't worth losing what we have now. You'd do well to remember that. Back down, Thomas."

Grace and Michael simultaneously cringed. _Shouldn't have ended with that._ Tommy's period of what had possibly been an oasis of introspection in the midst of all his anger came to a halt, and he rubbed his jaw while nodding at his aunt sarcastically. Michael attempted to disguise his laughter in a cough before heeding his boss' previous words and leaving the room to escape any wrath.

"Great speech, Pol." Tommy dropped into his high-backed chair and picked up his black desktop phone, holding it between his ear and shoulder, slamming a number into the keypad while holding their fateful fax out towards Polly. Scoffing, she snatched the paper with a Romani swear before walking out, Grace close behind her.

"Gracie," Tommy's voice was low like it had been a little over two hours ago, just for her, but with an edge it hadn't been carrying earlier. Stone-cold eyes searched Grace, looking at his mirror image for reassurance, but wording it like she was the one that needed it. "You and me, alright? Trust me, trust me."

"I trust you. Me and you." They nodded at each other and Grace smiled gently, shutting the glass door behind her as she left Tommy to his war, feeling the knots in her back tightening. She wished she could actually carry his stress on her back.

Polly said her goodbyes to Michael and gave Grace what she took as a genuine smile, small though it was, before storming down the hallway to her own office. Grace almost felt bad for her, but she knew the two women would no doubt talk later and the irritation of that pushed her sympathy away.

"Well this is fucking annoying. So anyway, I think I find myself 'incapable of pretending', as I think it was worded. Brunch, movies, spending money on useless objects, acting like we don't have to attend the clusterfuck that's going to be this meeting with Alfie in 8 hours? We can just work late tomorrow to make up for today." Michael sang the last word coaxingly, and Grace laughed but shook her head.

"No, I should stay in case Tommy needs me. I want to work anyway. You go. Take Finn, not like he went to class anyway."

"Such a doting Mrs. Shelby." Michael widened his eyes jokingly at her as he pressed the call button for the elevator, which opened immediately, already on their floor.

Grace looked back at Tommy one more time to see him still punching in the phone number, getting it wrong over and over again, increasing rage making it worse. It pained her, but there was nothing she could do until he came to her, and she knew it. Grace turned away and trailed after Michael, both of them pretending the last sound they heard above the gilded doors sliding shut wasn't Tommy's phone smashing to bits as it was thrown against the wall.

* * *

 ** _Sorry for the wee bit of a filler chapter with a side of unhappiness, it was necessary to set up some things. Thank you so much for reading, review to your heart's desires xx_**


	6. Chapter Five

_Hi guys! Sorry for the big paragraphs and another week of some mild filler, I had a lot to explain. Thank you so much for reading, reviewing, and dealing with my endless supply of run-on sentences and mistakes. And before anyone asks, I will not be time-jumping past the engagement party, which will be fluffy as heck. Thank you again, enjoy! xx_

* * *

 _So in addition to mentioning the music I put in the story, I'm going to add a song or two that I listened to while writing the scenes as well, separated by a little / Even if I can't fit it in, it's what I always picture them listening to while I'm writing anyway, so it deserves to be shared!_

 _Grace's Car/ Her and Polly's little excursion:_

 _West Coast - Lana Del Rey_

 _/_

 _Arabella - Arctic Monkeys_

 _Alfie's Office:_

 _I Want Some More - Dan Auerbach_

 _PDA - Interpol_

 _/_

 _When The Levee Breaks - Led Zeppelin_

 _Flickers - Son Lux_

 _Young Men Dead - The Black Angels_

* * *

Chapter 5

Grace swore and threw her pen at the screen that she realized she'd been doing nothing but staring blankly at for the past twenty minutes. Michael raised his eyebrows but stayed silent, knowing better than to intervene.

It had been a long week, and the fact it was Friday unfortunately wasn't making the Shelby's pile of troubles shrink.

Alfie had cancelled their meeting on Monday without saying why, and it had launched Tommy into a mode that Grace hadn't seen in three years. Instead of his presence, Tommy and Michael had received nothing from the lawyer but emails that confirmed their fears without any offer of help. The Fairchild's contract was intended to undo Shelby Brothers Ltd. after all, hidden in the fine print like a snake in the grass. Alfie apparently was heading off on a three-week-vacation with his wife and Tommy's horse trainer, May, to a country that Tommy and Grace had googled after never hearing of it. In typical Alfie sarcasm, the country he claimed they were going to was not even a real place. Grace had texted May, who was eight months pregnant and could definitely not be on a plane anyway, and she'd had no idea what Grace had been talking about. John and Arthur had thought it was hilarious, Tommy had not. But troubles with Alfie aside, knowing what was coming from their American opposition had made things both better and worse.

Work hadn't been ending when they left the office, Tommy and Grace's living room had been littered with debating Peaky bodies until the early hours of every morning since Tommy had filled them in on Tuesday night. They voted, argued, voted again, and argued some more. It was split down the middle between fight or flight. Tommy, of course, leading the fighting front with his now overused phrase that had stuck with him since Monday: "fuck them harder than they're trying to fuck us". On his side were his brothers, and most of the Blinders that were easily swayed by fear of Tommy and the old hunger for blood. The junior Blinders were especially angsty, wanting any excuse to burn off their testosterone, even if it was via a legal document that they really didn't have much immediate involvement in other than a vote. Polly, and surprisingly Michael, were desperate in leading the argument to back out, claiming that they'd lose nothing by doing so, that they could regroup and resume the fight in a year, with a plan and a lawyer who wasn't avoiding them when they needed him the most. Grace thought everyone was right and was caught in the middle. Bouncing between Tommy's angry eyes and Ada's scared ones was going to give her a concussion, and there was no end in sight.

If they got away with it, and Tommy was now more ferociously adamant than ever that they would, they would be farther ahead than they had thought. Grace had done some investigating of her own, much to Tommy's dismay but utter lack of surprise. The Fairchild's were more involved in the stock market and the American political landscape than Tommy had known. Patrick was looking to rise within government, much like Tommy was, and the Fairchild money Shelby Bros. Ltd. would have in their accounts was being put there to buy the political influence that Tommy wanted for himself. What would eventually undo the company were logistics of the law it seemed only Alfie understood, and he was nowhere to be found. But Tommy knew that the point of what Grace had discovered was that he was in over his head, and his refusal to admit it or change his plans was throwing the family into turmoil.

The debate was getting more and more complicated, and personal goals had become the driving force behind everyone's opinions as the stakes got higher by the day. Tommy had his sights on Parliament, John had his sights on defending the Shelby name while Meghan had her sights on making a baby to carry that name into a safe future. Michael had his sights on a promotion in a functioning company. Polly had her sights on keeping her family alive and out of ruin. Grace wasn't sure what her sights were on anymore, and it seems like the only one that had been watching out for her sanity was Ada, sleeping with Grace in her and Tommy's bed since he hadn't been.

Tommy was on the edge of a razor at all times, and Grace was trying to be there in any way she could. But she had awoken with his sister instead of him every morning this week, walking downstairs to find Tommy asleep on his desk, if he had even slept at all, and if he hadn't he was already back at the office. She hadn't seen him smile in days and they talked of nothing but business even when they were alone, Tommy pacing in front of her and venting, splitting more cigarettes with her than Grace would have preferred. Taking the stairs was starting to get her out of breath again. Their love making was a thing of the recent past, having turned into Grace getting fucked on desks at strange times of every day, Tommy desperate for release as his hands left handprint-shaped bruises on her ribs. They used to thrive on it, alternating between scheming and fucking. When they had lived in London, their old little townhouse would be alive with smoke and sweat and ideas, and they'd eventually both fall asleep in Tommy's office chair, Grace curled up in his lap. Either her memories were deceiving her or Grace was sure she used to enjoy it far more than she was now. The past year had been full of things her and Tommy had talked about wistfully before falling asleep in that chair, not thinking it would ever actually happen. But it had, and the stark contrast of this week was exhausting against the Tommy she'd been living in bliss with for the past months. She preferred the fruits of legality after all.

Tonight was their engagement party, and the thought of watching Tommy put on a happy face to soothe the Blinders and the Lees made her nauseous. It was supposed to have been a surprise for the two of them, which Johnny Dogs accidentally ruined thanks to not understanding how Facebook works.

"Grace." Michael snapped her out of her trance and back into the present, and she looked across their office at him in annoyance.

"What?"

"You just broke your pen in half."

Grace looked down to see her pen spewing ink all over her paperwork and the white keyboard of her iMac. She swore once more and threw her hands up in the air. "I'm taking the day off. Order me a new keyboard, will you? See you tonight, don't be late please."

She stood up shakily, swinging her bag over her shoulder and ignoring Michael's chuckle as she rounded her desk and headed towards the stairwell. Halfway down she stopped and sat to pull out her phone, looking at her last text to Tommy. Her offer for lunch sat unanswered, inbox as empty as their house had felt this morning even though most of the Peaky Blinders had slept there. That house was supposed to be filled with guests to celebrate them tonight, and her fiancé wasn't answering her. Grace wasn't worried, she just wished she was wherever he was. Mentally as well as physically.

Grace threw her phone back in the purse and put her head in her hands, remembering the first time Tommy had ever asked her to help him. Laying together in her apartment that had just been for show, well under her means and a part of her ruse. But her love for him never had been, and she had acted on nothing but that love from the moment his tired voice had asked for her help, nothing else had mattered anymore anyway. _The whole fucking thing._

Grace stood up with a sudden energy and flipped her hair, pulling out her phone again to dial Alfie for the thousandth time this week, who she knew wouldn't answer but it wasn't going to stop her from trying. The promise she had made Tommy to help him no matter what had stood strong through a lot of things, and this was going to be another one, whether he liked it or not.

Once she reached the parking lot she picked up speed, feet trying to keep up with her thoughts. Grace's Audi was in sight but unfortunately Aunt Pol was closer, leaning against Isiah's Audi of the same model on the phone, smoke and huge sunglasses covering most of her face in the second Grace spared to look at her. They had been getting along this week but Grace wanted to keep it that way, so she ignored the matriarch and continued, willing her car to be closer than it appeared.

"Where are we off to?" Polly ended her call without saying goodbye and crossed the parking lot to walk next to Grace.

 _Honestly._ "I'm taking the day off."

"A little pre-engagement party relaxation?"

"Yes." Grace didn't slow down, walking almost comically fast at this point.

"And where might that be happening? I could use some myself."

Stopping short, Grace crossed her arms and cocked a brow. "I don't owe you an explanation for where I'm going. It's not to the police, if that's what you were wondering." Grace was extra snarky, and no longer in a mood to value their peace of the past few days.

"Oh, I know sweetheart. You wouldn't make it there anyway if it were up to me. But if I had to guess-"

"No one asked for your guess."

Ignoring her with an expression unchanged, Polly continued, talking louder to drown Grace out. "But if I had to guess, you're going to find Alfie yourself, since Tommy is distant except for his ridiculously insatiable cock needs, and he's handling this like an idiot without wanting your help. Am I right?"

Grace said nothing as it began to drizzle, the two women staring at each other, blue vs. brown, mild shock vs. knowing amusement. Grace broke the stare and looked to the distance, watching the clouds creep in to cover the tops of the dark trees. "I'm going to tell him later. I'm not going to lie. But-"

"Don't feel guilty, luv. Had the same idea. He's not thinking, so you and I are."

"Yes." Grace said quietly, bitter at Polly's intuition that seemed to be extra keen today. Polly being right, and knowing it, was a very annoying animal.

"Right. Let's go then. You drive." Polly tossed her cigarette on the ground and strolled towards Grace's car.

Grace snorted. "No thanks. I know Alfie better than you do."

"Perfect, I'm glad you're with me then. Unlock it will you?"

Grace's eyes widened in exasperation as Polly blew past her and looked up to Tommy's window on the top floor, wishing he was in it to see this situation and stop it from happening. Instead Arthur and Finn caught her attention a few floors below, who were in the window of her office with Michael, all of them pointing and laughing.

"It's raining if you haven't noticed, I would thoroughly enjoy getting in your car."

Grace flipped the boys off and sassily raised her arm to click her car remote, hearing the doors unlock. She turned away from the building with a huff and ignored Polly's satisfied smirk as she got in the small black Audi.

"Please tell me you know where you're going." Polly said, buckling her seatbelt and adjusting all of Grace's carefully set temperature controls as soon as Grace turned the engine over.

Grace watched her incredulously before responding with a curt "Yes."

"Good. The last thing we bloody need is to make ourselves look like idiots by getting lost. Plus, I don't think we would function well in an emergency situation together."

"I'm pretty sure we're already sort of in one, and I'm not planning on recommending it to a friend."

Polly laughed. "That was funny. Turn the music up, will you? Hell of a voice, that Lana."

Grace gritted her teeth and complied, repeating _the whole fucking thing_ over and over to herself to remind her why she was doing this in the first place.

* * *

Polly's monotone voice rang out once more, and Grace almost hit the brakes to launch the woman forward out of sheer spite. "I thought you said you knew where you were going."

"I do." Grace spat, Irish face flushed red with frustration as she drove down the same street they'd been on three times now. "The office is hard to find."

"Clearly."

Grace ignored Polly and picked up her phone, dialing Alfie for the second time today, again knowing that once again it would go unanswered.

"Oh good, kill us both."

"Gladly." Grace muttered, listening to the ringing sound echo before it dumped her into Alfie's voicemail that she'd grown all too familiar with. "I'm parking and we're walking until we find it."

Polly nodded in agreement and said nothing, thankfully. Grace slowed her breathing as she found a parking spot and paid for it, before marching her heels forward, not looking back to see what Pol was doing, which was unfortunately matching her speed and meeting Grace's side. They walked in silence for a few blocks, ignoring each other until Polly handed Grace the last half of her clove cigarette, which Grace raised her eyebrows in surprise at but took anyway. The day she knew how Polly felt about her for certain was the day Grace would give up cigarettes for good.

"So what are you wearing tonight?" Polly attempted small talk with Grace as they walked on, which was equal parts confusing and unsettling.

"I don't know. This way." Grace made a sharp left down a familiar looking narrow alley and knew she was on the right track when the stone path turned to a brick one.

"Do we have a plan?"

"Confrontation, I don't really see what else there's left to do." Grace said. They rounded a corner and faced the brick complex. Between being hard to find, and an odd combination of a law office/distillery, Grace always thought that the strange and winding system of brick buildings that sat on the Thames was rather apropos for the person they belonged to.

Polly strolled past Grace with confidence into the square of the business complex that was lined with gorgeous flowers, thanks to May, who Grace was sorely missing at this moment for some reason. "Well then? Which door?"

Grace sighed and pointed to the left, starting to think that perhaps this was a bad idea. "That one."

She followed Polly through the huge lobby and up the spiral stairs, ignoring Alfie's secretary as she shouted after them. Alfie's office doors were closed, a foreboding dark block at the end of his white-and-black tiled hallway. Polly beat Grace to them, pounding on the black doors until they opened to reveal the lighter wood tones within, which intentionally or not, Alfie Solomons had color coordinated himself with today. Grace almost grinned at the sight of his face, her grudge of the week pushed out of her mind briefly. Even when he had been trying to literally murder her boyfriend something about the man had always been contagiously amusing.

"Y'know, something told me I'd be visited by some Shelby's today, and I have been, but technically that's not either of you, is it? Like you're sort of Shelby's, but not really, you know what I mean?"

Grace and Polly both scrunched their faces in confusion at his cryptic comment until Alfie opened the door wider with an exaggerated gesture to reveal Tommy standing behind him, leaning against Alfie's desk with what thankfully appeared to be a smirk instead of the anger Grace would have expected.

 _Fuck._

Tommy stood straight and started slow-clapping sarcastically, before beginning with words dripping in a matching tone. "I admire you both, really, I do. Taking matters into your own hands, eh?"

"What can we say, wasn't looking like you were going to." Polly snipped.

Grace did nothing but glare at Tommy as she entered the office, who walked forward to meet her before sticking a cigarette between her lips. He cocked his head at her and winked before lighting the cigarette, which he immediately took back. Searching his face with knowing ease, Grace found nothing but Tommy of their blissful year, anger of the past week nowhere to be found. The irritation of clearly having missed something crossed her face and Tommy snickered before gliding a thumb across her cheekbone. He turned from her and tipped his glass at Polly before walking back to lean in the same spot he previously occupied, whistling along to the Dan Auerbach song that was playing as he left two wide-eyed and puzzled female Blinders in his wake.

"Don't be rude, you cocky bastard. They're here because they love you sweetie, just like you're here because you love me. That is why you came to see me, right?" Alfie's signature voice rang through the room and Polly jumped a little in surprise.

The two men stared at each other in mock disdain before bursting out laughing. Tommy was laughing. Grace thought she was going to have a stroke.

Grace watched Alfie as he laughed with Tommy, having forgotten why they actually came. The brown of his suit vest complemented the huge bronze vats of Solomon's Co. alcohol, of varying types, that sat in the distillery beyond his indoor window, also matching the light wood of his office walls. His face looked the same as it had when she saw him last for dinner at their house with May, laugh lines having replaced the ripples of aggression that had been constant when he was at odds with Tommy. Thankfully those days were behind them. The past year of legal partnership had brought on quite the bromance between Tommy and himself, although neither would admit it, which both Grace and May rolled their eyes at endlessly. At least they weren't trying to kill each other anymore. Tommy and Grace had taken a few bullets for each other, but Tommy and Alfie had put bullets in each other. They liked to compare their scars, arguing like little boys over who had gotten a better shot in. Grace honestly couldn't believe her life in moments like those. Neither one of the men knew how to have a best friend, but they did have an interesting version of attempting it.

Alfie stopped laughing abruptly and held his arms out to Grace. She finally allowed herself to smile, it was almost impossible not to as she hugged their old friend. "Grace. Like Venus on the fuckin' half-shell ain't ya. Beautiful, beautiful. Pollyanna, what a pleasant surprise, haven't aged a bit. Sit, sit. Whiskey? Gin? I think I have almond milk somewhere…" He scratched his head as he gestured to the chairs and then his office. Grace bit back a laugh as she wondered why he would ever categorize the last beverage with the other two, slightly off-center as he ever was.

"Whiskey for me, thanks." Polly said, unamused and not moving her eyes from Tommy's annoyingly smug face.

"Me as well. Thank you. How's May? About to pop I bet. I miss running circles around you two with her." Grace smiled at the memory of setting her and Alfie up together, which Tommy had thought was completely ridiculous. But the plan had worked, and May thankfully ended up bringing the two men together, in a sense. Alfie was a sucker for the woman he loved asking him not to kill someone.

The pretty brunette had been training Tommy's racehorses for years, but was now on hiatus since she hit her second trimester a few months ago with her and Alfie's first child. Their wedding had been the wildest party any of them had possibly ever attended, and Grace grimaced internally at the thought of Tommy trying to top Alfie's nuptial festivities with their own, which was no doubt bound to happen. Grace remembered watching the boys board the jet bound for Las Vegas for Alfie's bachelor party a few weeks before the wedding, scenes from The Hangover flashing in her mind as she prayed she'd see them all again. Tommy and Alfie had apparently ended up playing poker and drinking together like two old men at a casino table practically the entire weekend while the rest of the invited Blinders did things Grace had zero interest in ever finding out about.

"Grand, grand. She misses you too, we'll be seeing you tonight though, yeah? Congratulations are in order, quite the fuckin' rock you have on your finger there. Rings like that are measured in bullets instead of carats, good lord. Anyway, shame your little surprise got ruined, never seen this bastard surprised before, I was looking forward to that one." He settled in his chair and threw a pen at the back of Tommy's head, who laughed, again.

Grace and Polly both looked to Tommy and then each other before Grace answered. "Well we weren't sure if you were coming, you've been rather distant this past week."

The awkward silence was suffocating until Tommy turned to nod at Alfie as if to grant permission, who leaned forward on his desk and opened his arms in a shrugging motion as he broke the silence.

"Yeah, well, here's the thing right? Not gonna dance around the great big fuck-off-elephant in the room, yeah? Tommy got into this Fuckchild bullshit, and with the baby on the way and all I was kind of preferring to stay out of it until it was over, you know what I'm saying? Ambitious bastard, ain't he? Stupid git. Any-fucking-way, that's why I cancelled our little pow-wow on Monday, right? But as I'm sure your loving fiancé here will tell you shortly, Grace, he got some information this fine morning that changes things quite a bit, so I'm all in now, as they say. All in, yeah."

Grace's eyebrows crinkled as her mind tried to keep up, listening to Alfie was like processing a different language. Her mouth opened but Polly spoke first. "What information would that be? Are we signing the contract?"

Alfie stood up to pour himself another whiskey, waving his arms around. " _Fuck_ no, you're not gonna sign it, no. Postponing it, pushing off the deal until everything happens, right? I told Junior here that if he figured out a way to get through this little Fairchild revolution, without anyone thinking it was me and coming to _fucking shoot me_ …I'd write the contracts for the deal after it all goes down, right?"

"Fairchild revolution? And pray tell, Thomas, what might that be?" Polly prompted, getting nothing but music in her ears. "Well? One of you. Out with it."

Alfie glanced back at Tommy, who was staring at Grace in anticipation, but whether it was good or bad she couldn't tell. Alfie darted his eyes back and forth between the couple quickly.

"Yeah mate, I'm gonna go ahead and express my humble opinion that you should probably be the one to tell them."

"Later." Tommy shook his head and finished his whiskey.

"Oh no no no, I've been through this with you all week. If you get to laugh again, I get to laugh again. Now." Grace said, daring him with her eyes to try and brush her off, which of course he did anyway.

"Not now, Gracie. Later." Tommy raised his eyebrows at her and held their cigarette out when she stepped forward to take it from him.

Grace put the cigarette on pause in Alfie's gold ashtray and held Tommy's face in her hands, strength finally breaking now that he apparently no longer needed it from her. Tommy grasped her wrists and his eyes softened as he blinked at her slowly, a silent apology. Grace knew that he was grateful to have her by his side, and that he felt guilty for sometimes forgetting that her soul felt everything his did.

"Tommy. I want to help you. Tell me." Grace's voice cracked and he winced at the sound, cold eyes closing. He pressed his forehead to hers as they ignored the other two people in the room for as long as they could, which unfortunately wasn't as long as either of them would have liked.

"Happy wife happy life mate, I'm tellin' you, know what I mean?"

"Shut up Alfie. Fine. Jesus Christ. Alright." Tommy sighed loudly and ran both hands over his face, wiping away his gentle expression. Grace backed away from him to sit down in the deep chair behind her, picking up the cigarette and blowing smoke through the corner of her mouth towards the gold ceiling. "We got some good news today."

"Yes, Thomas, we know. And?" Polly said, barely giving him time to finish.

"The deal is off. For now."

"Why? On what side? Finally come to your bloody senses?"

"Pol, we called it off because this information came from the Fairchild's." Tommy was clicking his jaw non-stop and it was driving Grace insane.

"What? Thomas, say it." Grace leaned forward and reached for his jaw to halt it but he was faster and caught her hand.

"Are you armed?" His voice was quiet and sort of cute, or at least Grace would have thought so if the question wasn't what it was.

"Of course I'm armed, why?"

They stared at each other for a testing moment before lurching towards her bag at the same time, Tommy faster once again as he snatched it from her, hugging it to his chest like a boy and pushing Grace back down into her chair with his foot. Tommy swore as Grace sunk her teeth into his ankle, darting away from her behind Alfie's desk, the lethal Marc Jacobs behind his back in one arm while holding Grace away from him with the other. He said her name over and over, watching her face grow more murderous by the second.

"Oh, honestly." Polly complained while Alfie egged Grace on in the background. "Can we get this over with? Sling your hook, Grace isn't going to fucking shoot you."

Alfie chimed in with a high-pitched cringing noise, squinting his eyes and moving his head back and forth as if weighing the odds. "I mean, she might not shoot you if you word everything right, but I wouldn't give her the bag back just in case mate, you know?"

"Shut up Alfie." The pair said at the same time, and Grace took three deep breaths before her voice continued alone. "What is it, and who told you?"

"We're only going to be doing business with the Fairchild children. Not Patrick."

Grace backed away slightly and narrowed her eyes at him. "What? How? _Which_ children?"

Tommy stretched his arm out further to meet her chest again, resting his fingertips on her skin, voice lowering. "The warning fax came from Georgina. It was her idea to help us."

"Why?" Polly asked tentatively, standing up out of her chair. Tommy's eyes blinked between Grace and his Aunt, indecisive as to who was going to take it the worst. Alfie walked over to his indoor window to watch his employees below, standing between the braced couple and the view of his distillery, humming along to his music like none of the people in his office existed.

"They may or may not be having their father murdered in a New York airplane hangar tomorrow. Georgina was just here and told us everything."

Polly swore loudly in Romani as Grace lunged for her bag again, Tommy catching her with one arm, his voice straining as he wrestled with her.

"Georgina is next of kin and the board said they'll make her CEO. It was their family's decision, it was a company decision and it makes sense for them to do for reasons beyond us. It helps us, and we won't be associated with it. It's their business." Tommy's volume steadily increased, trying to drown out the two yelling women.

"It makes _sense_?! You think this is better? Was little miss Children of the Corn trying to sit on your face as she told you this?" Grace tried to knock Tommy over at the waist but she was too small and he laughed instead, making her want to add his name to the main attractions at the impending Fairchild assassination.

"10 points for the reference." Alfie mumbled, not turning around even though Grace accidentally kicked him in the head as Tommy threw her over his shoulder.

"This is good news? Christ, Thomas. Now instead of dealing with Patrick we're dealing with his usurping bastard children. What makes you think they won't do the same to you?"

"Pol, it is good news, listen-"

Alfie swung around suddenly, holding Grace's feet as she furiously tried to kick her fiancé so he would put her down. "I got your back mate. But yeah, she's fucking crazy that little one. Georgina, yeah. CEO, yeah. Women's world, ain't it? You watch Game of Thrones right? You know what Tommy and I started calling her?"

"Not now, Alfie." Tommy growled.

"Kingslayer. Kingslayer! Get it? No? Ah, well, anyway. Should May and I bring anything tonight? Does Finn still like those little tarts May makes? Fuckin' delicious, those."

"You've got to be fucking kidding me." Polly pinched the bridge of her nose and started muttering to herself in Romani again.

Grace had tired herself out and laid weakly across Tommy's back, punches that he probably barely felt raining lamely into his muscled side. Georgina's face flooded her vision and it gave her one more rage-filled wave of strength as she tried to tear her feet from Alfie's grasp. "Why is she here Thomas Michael? Did you know she'd be here? Did she fucking touch you? I swear to God-"

Tommy held Grace tight with his arms behind her knees and over her back, rubbing her bare leg which she tried to jerk away but failed. "I didn't know, Gracie, I didn't know, and no she didn't touch me. Christ. I came to track Alfie down and she was waiting in the fucking lobby. She came to bring Alfie the original contracts and all the copies for safekeeping so the police won't see our name anywhere near the murder. That deal could frame us, it's motive, Grace. They're all here, they're out of the US so they have an alibi."

Polly nodded slowly. "They could have set us up but they didn't."

"Nice of her, really, if you ask me. Quite an opportunity, honestly." Alfie mumbled, finally letting go of Grace's legs.

"Oh yes so precious, I can't wait to see what kind of thanks she's expecting." Grace muttered spitefully, not caring for the truth in Polly's statement. She was being petulant but she didn't care about that either.

"Stop it, Grace. Tommy wouldn't touch her with a stick and you know it. You're not helping, luv. Are they going to get away with this Tommy?" Pol asked, calming down far faster than Grace was, clearly.

"Yes." Tommy nodded, speaking quietly but surely. "They're more powerful than we thought they were. Patrick's children aren't the only ones that want him dead, they have a lot of people backing them up, the police included."

Grace gave up after Polly chided her and after a peaceful minute with no struggling Tommy set her down, clasping his hands behind her head and looking at her expectantly. Grace laid her hands on his chest and fiddled with the buttons of his shirt, saying nothing.

Polly moved to the corner of the office, looking at the leather books mindlessly. "Our new world is no different from our old one, is it?"

"No, Pol. No it's not." Tommy said matter-of-factly, breaking away from Grace to get her the whiskey Alfie forgot to pour. Grace fell backwards into Alfie's chair and rubbed her eyes, careful to avoid her mascara. Georgina's name was as equivalent to Voldemort's for Grace at this point, but she had to admit she was relieved by the change in plans. She couldn't have cared less about Patrick's murder, really. It was none of their business, and Grace had become numb to mindless killing long ago. It had always been kill or be killed, and it was obviously no different now. Fine print wasn't the new bullet after all, violent men still reigned supreme. Or women.

Grace sighed as her concerns moved to business, falling back into sync with Tommy for the first time all week. "What do they want? Georgina just saved us, they have to want something." The words tasted bad.

"After it all calms down and the bastards are done fake-grieving, they want to do business with us. They have no interest in politics, just investments. Georgina said if we help them get involved in the American racetracks she'll give us half the shares."

Polly smiled her pursed smile, wary but obviously as relieved in the change of direction as Grace was. "That sounds far too good to be true but we'll decide when we get there. We'll vote again when the time comes."

Tommy nodded and the group sat with their thoughts for a few minutes after Alfie put on an Interpol record. But their meditation came to an end when Alfie's protégé Ollie knocked at his door sheepishly, giving Grace a small wave after greeting everyone else. "Hey Grace. Congratulations and stuff."

Grace smiled at Ollie, he'd always been a shy soft spot in the hardness of meetings with Alfie. "Hi Ollie, thank you. You should come tonight, we'd love to have you."

"Yeah, thanks, maybe." The gangly young man's words said yes but his mildly terrified eyes had moved to Tommy and were definitely saying no. Grace often forgot that most people found Tommy to be various levels of scary. "Alfie, Heather wanted me to tell you there's a client here to see you."

"Oh! Did she now? Good, that's super, you tell her to send them up, and that if I wanted two fucking secretaries I would have hired two fucking secretaries." Alfie shuffled back behind his desk and Grace laughed for the first time in what felt like forever as she gave him back his chair.

Ollie nodded too fast and shut the door behind him as he left without another look at any of them before Alfie continued. "Fucking hell. Anyway, we'll be seeing you tonight then, go on now, yep. Good talk."

Alfie was never great at ending conversations, so Tommy rolled his eyes and chuckled before leading Grace out of the office and into the hallway. He side-eyed Grace as she reached in her bag for her keys, and she gave him his favorite small smile. "I'm not going to shoot you yet; I can't attend my engagement party alone now can I?"

"Defeats the purpose, I'd say." Tommy made a serious face before pressing his lips to hers, dipping her over and having no regard for public displays of affection as Alfie's client walked past them.

"I'll wait." Pol spoke up, waiting for them to finish, they both had forgotten she was there. Grace looked at her, and even upside-down she could see that for the first time in a long time, possibly ever, Pol's look of disapproval seemed to be a joking one. "I'd like to get out of here sometime this year."

Tommy straightened them both up but didn't let go of Grace, taking her keys out of her hand and tossing them to Polly before either of them could protest. "Go home and update everyone on the Kingslayer. I want everyone in a good mood for tonight, alright? We'll be back later, I owe Mrs. Shelby here lunch and some quality time in an actual bed."

"Didn't need to know that." Polly sighed with a curled lip as she slid on her sunglasses and walked past them.

"If you crash my car I'll know it was on purpose." Grace yelled after her, half joking, half not.

"Just make sure your brakes aren't cut before you get in it again." Polly quipped back from the stairs, hopefully completely joking. Grace would check anyway.

Once his aunt disappeared, Tommy threw Grace over his shoulder once more, ignoring her squeals. "So Mrs. Shelby, lunch first or a bed first?"

"I don't think I can make it to either, how about that closet?"

Tommy laughed a laugh that was just for her as he threw the door open and pulled her from his back to face him in the dark, voice growing raspy as Grace wrapped her legs around his waist. "Didn't lose your passion for unconventional surfaces after all, eh?"

"We haven't been conventional since 2008, beds are overrated." Grace gasped and said nothing more as Tommy pushed into her. She felt more at home than she had all week while Tommy murmured his love like a prayer, making it to her in his best friend's closet.


	7. Flashback I

_Hello, hello! I'm SO sorry it's been a while. I will definitely be updating a much longer chapter this week, I promise! Until then, however, I have my first of a few flashbacks I think I'm going to throw in every once and a while. Please let me know if you like the idea, and what you think! Thank you for reading xx_

* * *

 _I listened to this song writing and it almost made me cry. It's perfect, but I warn you, it'll break your heart!_

 _You - Keaton Henson_

* * *

2009

Grace cracked her eyes open slowly, disoriented and cold. She moved her fingers and toes slowly, coming back into her body again. Pain blossomed inside and out as she turned over on to her other side, tubes and wires coming with her. The rhythmic beeping of the monitor beside her was a soothing constant in the background and she tried to time her breathing with it as memories flooded her brain.

Breaking glass, blinding heat, Tommy's hoarse voice slamming through the Garrison and the ringing in her ears, his hands never leaving her. Tommy's voice had turned to a whisper soon after, possibly to soothe himself more than her as he asked Grace mindless questions to keep her awake. Her blood sunk into the Garrison's wooden floor after Tommy's suit could absorb no more, the warmth of it had been strangely comforting like a macabre blanket. Grace remembered smiling up at him in delirium and brushing his face limply with her fingers, the streaks of her red mixing with his, pouring from the cut on his brow. The burning pain in her chest had been nothing compared to watching the pain in his eyes.

Grace stared now at Tommy's sleeping body in the chair next to her, thinking that she would live through those memories again if it meant she would have this. Through the drugged fog of her brain she stared at him, smiling softly even though it hurt.

Somehow sensing her newfound consciousness, Tommy stirred and rolled his head towards her, eyes opening to reveal the piercing blue beneath that was awash with relief as he took her in.

"Hi." Grace said, voice almost inaudible from misuse from her healing sleep.

Tommy said nothing, sitting up and attempting to drag his chair closer to her, impeded by the railing of her hospital bed. He snaked his arms through the metal spaces to find her hand, their skin contact broken up by the seemingly endless amount of tubes pouring into her.

"Gracie, I-" His voice cracked and the relief in his eyes disappeared, replaced with the same pain that Grace had seen as she had laid in his lap. Tommy struggled for words as he stared at her, bringing his thumb to trace her lips, surrendering to his struggle with a simple, "Hi."

Grace smiled at his out of character lack of words, hiding her wince from him as she shifted closer to the railing, and him. "How long have I been asleep?"

"Three days, off and on." He swept her hair back from her face and twirled a frizzy lock of it around his finger, watching his own movement as he spiraled it gently. "How do you feel?"

"Sleepy. But fine. I'm fine, Tommy."

"This is fine?" He said, the self-hatred in his voice made Grace want to cry. Tommy gestured at her body, so small under the three extra and unnecessary blankets on top of her. Grace was sure he had probably terrified some poor nurse in demanding them.

Grace nodded, head swimming. "Tommy, I would do it all again-"

"Don't say that, don't fucking say that Grace, please." Tommy's eyes shone and Grace froze, not prepared to see the display of emotion from her stoic love. "You shouldn't be in this bed, it should be me. You're here because of me."

Grace shushed him quietly and raised her hand to his face, his stubble scratching her palm. "I'm here because of me. I had to."

"No. No you didn't. Why did you do it, Grace? Why did you fucking do it?" There was a low anger crackling in Tommy's voice but Grace ignored it, knowing it wasn't for her.

"Campbell would have killed you. I didn't think twice, Tommy." Grace shrugged. "I had to, I had to. You're my life, and you know it."

Tommy sighed out a shaky breath and squeezed her hand gingerly, careful of the IV. "So you put that life on the line for a man like me?"

"Yes."

They stared at each other in a draw, remaining unbroken even when a nurse came and went after changing Grace's clear bag of medicine.

Grace continued after she left, desperate to know about the fate of her previous boss, and massive thorn in all of their sides ever since. "Is he dead?"

"Yes. Very."

Grace let out a small, unsympathetic laugh, this one was worth the hurt in her chest. "It wasn't my shot was it?"

Tommy shook his head slowly, eyes murderous as they remembered a scene Grace couldn't see. "No, I wish it was though. It was mine."

"Good." Grace traced circles on his cheek weakly, thumb barely making contact. "I love you, Thomas."

"As I love you. More than anything, Grace." He paused and looked down at her chest, the hole in it leaving a red circle on the white bandage over top, eyes darkening as he clenched his jaw.

"Don't blame yourself, Tommy. If I hadn't had come, if I hadn't had beat him off of you, if I hadn't had taken the-"

"Then you wouldn't be _here_ , broken and bleeding and in pain. For what, for me?"

"Yes, Thomas Michael, for you." Grace hadn't realized she was crying, but Tommy let her know as he wiped the rolling tears off of her cheeks. "Do you think I can live without you, really? The bullet you took last year was my fault, I betrayed you and I-"

"I don't care about that."

"Let me finish, god damn it." Grace snapped in her quiet voice, and Tommy almost smiled. "I'm alive, aren't I? Here I am, for you, with you. We found each other. It's over, Campbell is dead and I'm alive. With you. Here. It's over, we're out of this now. I would do anything for you Tommy, don't you get it?"

"At what fucking cost? You almost died Grace." Tommy's voice was so low Grace almost couldn't hear it. "Do you understand that? I need you Gracie, I need you. You're the only light I have. But you're right, it's over. It's over, for now, eh? Only fucking for now. That's the problem with this life. But I promise Grace, I'm getting us out of this life, I promise you right now. No more of this shit. It's about me and you from now on, okay? Me and you. That's it. Remember that. Please."

"You and me." Grace nodded weakly. She could practically feel Tommy's heart clawing at her own, desperate for the guilt to be lifted. "I know this hurts you, so this is the first and last time I'll ever say it. But I'm happy I did what I did, and I don't want to be anywhere else in the world right now. I would do it again, and if I ever have to I will. Don't say anything, please."

Tommy slammed his eyes shut but complied, brushing his lips on her cuts from the broken glass of the Garrison's lamp that had shattered above them when Campbell's first hateful shot had missed Tommy, before the second one buried itself in Grace's shielding body. "I love you. I love you. I love you."

Grace's tears came again but stopped when she heard her newfound family loudly stepping off the elevator, all the way down the hall.

"Fuck, they're back." Tommy muttered, rubbing his eyes with one hand as he couldn't bear to lift the other from Grace. "This is the first time most of them left the hospital, you know."

"And you think I deserve better?" Grace fully smiled at him now, shining all the light on him she possibly could.

Tommy grumbled to himself in her favorite grumpy way before his family poured into the room, quieting only slightly when they saw Grace was awake.

Grace grew up with nice things, and a loving family. She had thought herself lucky as she grew older in the Burgess' mansion, surrounded by material possessions and a high-society life. Her mother had shunned her since she had left her father's legacy in the dust, calling her soulmate and his family slurs and condescending words that Grace used to say herself as an impressionable daughter. But now she knew her mother was wrong.

She knew her mother was wrong as she watched Ada and Meghan squeeze onto the foot of her hospital bed, rubbing Grace's legs. Arthur ruffled her hair, handing her a get-well card with his boyish smile. Finn provided more than enough comic relief as he animatedly described his and Isiah's search for Grace's favorite flowers, Michael pulling up a chair opposite Tommy and putting his feet up on the bed railings as he made fun of them. John handed her his own Starbucks, having not anticipated her being awake, claiming he didn't need it although the bags under his eyes said otherwise.

They didn't have money, they didn't have nice things, they never knew what the next day would bring or take. But as Tommy silently traced the words _I love you_ onto the bare skin of Grace's arm over and over, the strongest love in the room, Grace knew that she had never been truly lucky until now. Laying in a hospital bed, having narrowly missed death for the greatest treasure she could ever possibly possess, the same one she abandoned her mission for, the same one that her mother would never feel like this. Love, selfless love.


	8. Chapter Six

_I. AM. SO. SORRY._

 _It has been an unacceptably long time. I moved to Philadelphia, had two apartments at once, my life was a mess. I wanted to upload an A/N but I figured a chapterless update notification was worse than silence._ _But I am back with a disgustingly fluffy chapter that hopefully makes you all nauseous with love, and will be updating far more often again. Happy reading, please let me know what you think, and forgive any mistakes! Love you all, and thank you for your patience xx_

* * *

 _Delicious Hotel Goodness & Car Music:_

 _There Is a Cure - Timber Timbre_

 _The Black Keys - Oceans & Streams_

 _Interpol - Slow Hands_

 _The playlist for our favorite couples engagement isn't really in much of an order, so I put the three songs I mentioned first, just imagine the rest playing gloriously throughout the night_

 _Tame Impala - Half Full Glass of Wine_

 _White Stripes - Fell in Love with a Girl_

 _No. 1 Party Anthem - Arctic Monkeys (Harry's secret favorite because it means he gets to go home soon ;) )_

 _/_

 _Bad Habits - The Last Shadow Puppets_

 _Fright Lined Dining Room - Arctic Monkeys_

 _Tongue Tied - Grouplove_

 _Yeah, I Know - Otherkin_

 _Dirty Love - Gin Wigmore_

 _Flashed Junk Mind - Milky Chance_

 _Flower - Moby_

 _Ceremony - New Order_

 _Handshake - Two Door Cinema Club_

 _Heart of Glass - Blondie_

 _Do I Wanna Know? - Arctic Monkeys_

 _The House of the Rising Sun - The Animals_

 _I'm Shakin' - Jack White_

 _Fluorescent_ _Adolescent - Arctic Monkeys_

 _Riptide (FlicFlac Remix) - Vance Joy_

/

 _Sleeping music_

 _Fighter Pilots - Sanders Bohike_

2016

"Don't stop Thomas," Grace gasped, the hand in her hair tightening as the man it belonged to definitely did not stop. "Jesus Christ,"

Tommy rocked into her harder from behind, and Grace heard her nails carve marks in the headboard. She yelped as he pulled her backwards to him by her hair, his chest hard against her arching back. A tongue slipped around her earlobe and her eyes rolled back, a Gaelic curse her mother taught her falling through her lips as Tommy's voice rasped in her ear, "Say please."

"Please don't st-"

"Room service!"

A cockney accent crashed into their room, the muffling of the door doing nothing to mute it's interrupting harshness.

"Go away," Tommy growled, staying deep inside of a now-laughing Grace as he pushed her upper-body forward onto the down pillows, attempting to quiet her.

"But Sir-"

"I said go away, fuck," Tommy eased down to where Grace lay and let out a low, reluctant, laugh, unable to resist her unceasingly warm giggle. Their bodies shook as they heard the disgruntled bellhop wheel the cart away.

"I'm hungry." Whined Grace in mock desperation, sliding her arms back to grip Tommy's forearms, now on either side of her face.

"Oh trust me, so am I," He whispered, rolling his hips against her so deliciously that Grace forgot about, well, everything else. But the interruption had soothed Tommy's devil slightly, and with one arm he rolled her over to face him, not sliding out of her the slightest, "Look at me. Hey, look at me."

Grace raised her suddenly shy blues to his burning ones, and sighed into his mouth when he placed his hands carefully on her flushed cheeks.

"I love you, Gracie" Tommy murmured onto her lips as he resumed his rocking, gently working his way in and out of her, "I love you,"

"I love you Thomas," Grace breathed, tangling her fingers in the longer hair on top of his head. She crossed her ankles at the small of Tommy's rippling back and tightened herself around him. "I love you, I love you, I love you Tommy,"

"Fuck," Tommy swore and ducked his head into the crook of Grace's neck, quickening and strengthening his strokes into her. He wrapped one of her blonde curls around his finger softly, breathing in the scent of it as he groaned, "Come for me, love, come for me,"

Grace could have slapped herself for how those words made her dissolve around him in less than twenty seconds. Tommy leaned up on his elbows to watch her finish before tumbling over the edge himself. Grace left scratches on his back from her lust as he left finger-shaped bruises on her upper-arms from his.

They slowed their breathing in unison as Tommy rocked Grace slower and slower, undone but unwilling to part from her. Grace cradled his head against her chest as he moved to a stop and lay still for a few minutes, tracing patterns into each other's skin. Grace gasped as Tommy eventually slid out of her, his fingertips drifting across her ribs and leaving goosebumps in their wake.

"Shh, come here," Tommy pulled her to him, and Grace settled with her ear on his heart, matching her breathing with the thumping of his pulse beneath her. The twisted skin of his bullet wound was smooth but noticeable against her cheek, and she slid her head back to his steady shoulder so she could trace the starburst-shaped mark. Kisses were planted on her forehead, and Grace's eyes eventually fluttered shut.

* * *

"Gracie, wake up." Tommy murmured, his lips sleepy on hers. "Food."

"Feed me." Grace groaned, feeling reluctant as Tommy untangled himself from her limbs and the Ritz's sheets.

Unfortunately for her, Tommy had already turned his attention to his email, mindlessly flicking through his iPhone's business demands with his thumb while he picked at the food that had been wheeled in.

"What time is it?" Grace asked, draping a forearm over her eyes in protest of having to leave their hotel room, which she knew was soon.

"14:36. Our little party is at 19:00. We have a two-hour drive back to Birmingham, on top of somewhere to go first."

Grace peeked out from under her arm to see Tommy winking at her. "What is it? Tell me!"

"Never. As much as it tortures me to say this: get dressed please. We have an appointment." Tommy smirked, and Grace got worked up again just from his cocky half-smile.

"Thomas Michael tell me right now," Grace said, throwing a pillow at her fiancé.

"Mm," Tommy squinted in mock contemplation before tilting his head at her "Definitely not. Now up with you. Eat the rest of this, I'm going to shower."

"No!" Grace launched forward and grasped Tommy's wrist as he headed towards the bathroom. "Can we skip our own party?"

"Do you want to see Meghan and Ada cry?"

Grace sighed, she knew the two women were probably running all over her & Tommy's house, throwing flowers everywhere and stress-drinking, yelling at the boys. Slinking the rest of her body across the all-white bed so her head was at the foot of it, Grace pressed her lips to the pulse of Tommy's wrist and sighed. He was probably looking forward to this party less than she was and she felt a pang of sympathy for all four of them. "No, I do not."

"Well, then," Tommy leaned down and kissed her, upside down, his nose on her chin. He pulled one of her curls playfully before breaking away for the shower. "Eat please,"

"Fine, fine," Grace said, her words drowned out by the influx of rushing water & Black Keys from the bathroom. She pushed herself up to pick at the array of platters on the white tablecloth, flicking on the TV to see nothing but Brexit business, which she swore at and turned off before getting up to dress herself.

Twenty minutes later the couple moved through the lobby hand-in-hand, knowing smiles from their afternoon tryst. Tommy didn't let go of her hand until she was settled in the passenger seat of his Bentley, and he shut the door gently behind her. Grace watched him tip the valet, money sliding out of his wool coat with ease. She snorted as Tommy gave the terrified man what looked like a warning, and raised an eyebrow at him when he climbed into the black leather seat, "What, exactly, were you warning him about?"

"Oh, not much. Shall we?" Tommy winked without a smile as he shifted the Bentley's gears, lighting their cigarette he'd placed between his lips.

"Tommy," Grace laughed, "He looks scared half to death. Give me this,"

Tommy relented the cigarette, French inhaling before blowing the smoke out of the tinted car window, "He'll be alright. Nor will he forget us. Text everyone and tell them we're going to be late."

"Oh, honestly, Thomas. Poor boy," Grace took a drag of Tommy's Parliament and handed it back to him before pulling out her phone.

 _GRACE: We're going to be late :( Sorry!_

 _MICHAEL: 50 quid I know why. Gross. I can't believe you would do this to us. And to Harambe._

 _FINN: Harambe is in a better place now #DICKSOUT_

 _ISIAH: #DICKSOUT_

 _GRACE: You boys are drunk already aren't you?_

 _FINN: Never_

 _MICHAEL: We don't sin like you two do, Grace_

 _ADA: And you boys wonder why the good girls aren't interested in you_

 _ISIAH: I hope they never are, tbh_

 _JOHN: How did things go with Alfie?_

 _GRACE: Ask Polly._

 _JOHN: Right._

 _ARTHUR: Right._

 _FINN: Am I supposed to say right?_

 _JOHN: Shut up Finn. See you two whenever you decide to show._

"Tommy," Grace said, bristled with annoyance, "Are you planning on telling your brothers anything, anytime soon?"

"Pol told them."

"First of all, she hasn't yet," Grace retorted, "And second of all, I'm not just talking about the Fairchild's. John and Arthur are the last to know everything these days. You know it, I know it, they definitely know it."

Tommy cleared his throat after throwing Grace a glance, "They don't handle information well,"

"You deliver it to them terribly, late, and usually half-assed, if it's even you that delivers it."

They'd come to a stoplight, and Tommy shifted in his seat to face Grace after turning down the Interpol he had put on, his eyes managing to be blank, annoyed, and amused all at the same time, "Do you have something to say, Grace?"

"I'm saying it, darling," Grace replied, holding back no sass as she took his hand from the gearshift to kiss it, flashing him the toothy sarcastic smile she saved for their arguments.

Tommy grumbled to himself and turned forward as the light turned green, taking Grace's hand and putting it on the gear shift under his own. "They don't understand what's about to happen. They want different things now. Arthur's at the Garrison all the time. He wants full-time custody of Lily now, too. John is busy being domesticated by Meghan-"

"Don't talk shit, Thomas Michael, it's their right to want a baby. We want them too, remember? Is that little bit o' plan still relevant in your endless pile?"

Tommy ignored her passive-aggression and squeezed her hand, eyes steely on the wet road ahead of him, "-Meghan is busy domesticating John. Me & you are different. Their ambition is gone. It's you, me, Polly, and Michael carrying this forward. If they want to be a part of it, they can bloody act like it."

"They're trying to act like it; you won't let them,"

"Gracie, what is this? Off my side now, eh? I'm not going to fuckin' spoon-feed them Grace. I expect more." Tommy shifted the gear too hard, his hand powerful over hers, missing it and swearing as the engine of the Bentley whirred.

Grace crossed her legs and leaned across her black leather armrest to put her chin on Tommy's shoulder, looking up at him, "I'm sorry. Your side is my side. I trust you. I'm only trying to speak for them. They're my brothers. They're frustrated."

Tommy was silent and they stayed that way for a while as they drove slowly through the relentless weather. Grace kept her head on his shoulder despite the ache in her neck, not regretting what she said. Keeping Tommy accountable was one of Grace's many talents, but she knew it stirred him. Part of her was unbothered; his stress was his own and most of the time it was his own stubborn doing. But nonetheless she reached up after a while and ran her index finger along his jaw, watching it finally unclench under her touch.

Tommy turned and pressed his lips to her hairline, and they stayed like that as the London rain pounded on the top of the black car, a soothing violence.

"I'm sorry, Gracie. You're right. I don't feel like dealing with this," Tommy murmured. His hand started for the bridge of his nose to pinch it but chose to bury his face in Grace's neck instead, breathing in the scent of her Aveda shampoo.

"I know. I'm sorry. You deal with more than enough," Grace squeezed his knee as he grumbled, her sympathy for him was almost too much to take.

Tommy pulled away slightly and lifted Grace's chin as he pressed his forehead to hers, voice soft, "So do you. I'll handle it, Gracie, I promise. You and me, eh?"

"Me and you." Grace kissed him with an exaggerated fervor and Tommy laughed through her lips. Blessedly.

"Now, speaking of which: I have a surprise for you," Tommy wrapped his hand lightly around Grace's jaw and turned her head to the left out of her passenger window.

Grace hadn't even noticed they'd stopped, she'd practically forgotten she was even in a car. Her blue eyes registered the white buildings quickly, observations as strong as ever, and realized they were in Kensington.

"Still in London, Tommy? Are we moving here and skipping our party after all?" Grace asked, turning to her fiancé and taking one of his fingers into her mouth, drawing out a low rumble from his chest.

"Christ. No. Don't distract me. To the right, woman, look to the right," Tommy turned her head away from him once again, and Grace found herself more directly staring a bridal shop. Before she could say anything, Tommy was opening his door with a commanding, "Wait,"

Tommy got out of the car into the rain, unphased by the droplets falling around him. Grace watched him walk around the car, if she hadn't believed in science she would have thought the raindrops were moving out of his way as he strode to her door and opened it. An umbrella appeared from seemingly nowhere and loomed over her as he took her hand to help her from the car.

"You don't get to see my wedding dress yet, Thomas," Grace said, leaning into him.

"Only in my dreams," He replied, squinting at her, "This is for tonight."

Grace punched him lightly in the chest, giggling, "I already have a dress for tonight, it's been in our closet hidden from your vision for two weeks."

"I know you do, I found it already and looked at it. Lovely choice by the way, wear it soon." Tommy tilted his head, ignoring Grace's exasperation, "But I have a connection here and I want you to have a new one. I gave them your measurements and they made you twenty custom dresses to try on-"

"Thomas Michael that is the most Kardashian thi-"

"No, we actually work, very hard, for our money Gracie. That being said, carry your little feet forward please, I'd very much like to see the selection. On you, I mean."

"Tommy!" Grace squealed as Tommy threw her over his shoulder and handed her the black umbrella to cover herself, giving her no chance to carry her feet forward after all.

Tommy walked them to the door way and haphazardly fit them both inside after Grace forgot to shut the umbrella and got them stuck, the couple laughing harder than apparently the posh employees found acceptable. Classical music played overhead, going well with the blatant clucking of tongues and judgmental glances that fell upon the dripping couple as Tommy attempted to announce himself with a straight face. "Yes, Mr. Thomas Shelby. This is Mrs. Grace Shelby-I mean, Burgess. Fuck. No, actually, sounded right the first time, you know? Anyway, we have an appointment," He snorted with laughter like a boy and Grace lost her composure again.

"Yes, of course. I'm Beth, I have you all set up. Can we, erm, have Ms. Burgess-Shelby for a few moments?" The assistant that approached them was thankfully much kinder looking, smiling warmly. Her accent was crisp compared to Tommy's Brummie, and Grace knew the older ladies working in the shop added that to their growing list of disparagement. Tommy set her down in a fit, both of them laughing like children as he placed Grace's hands in Beth's very ceremoniously, to which Beth responded "I'll give her right back, I promise,"

Grace had almost reigned herself in as she rounded the corner to the plush dressing rooms, but snorted into the champagne Beth offered her when she heard Tommy's sarcastic and loaded voice directed at the condescending older women, "I hate millennials, too. Loud, entitled, in love, still have their youth, you know. Those kids and their damn phones. I heard Thomas Edison was a witch. Can we smoke in here?"

But despite Grace lacking all composure, Beth easily finessed her in and out of twenty perfect silk, satin, lace, and velvet dresses. Tommy was attentive and gave the feedback of a man with a good taste in clothing, but wasn't much help as he loved them all. Eventually Grace picked a floor-length silk that was a blush with cut-outs around her sides, an elegant bow in the back that Tommy tied for her as they stood in the alcove of the three-sided mirror.

"Excellent choice," Tommy said, spinning Grace around while a dutiful but exhausted Beth rang them up in the front of the store. Pulling Grace in close, his arm snaked around her waist and held tight. "It's perfect,"

"You're perfect," Grace muttered against Tommy's lips.

"Mm, I hope you told Saint Peter that when you were up there at the pearly gates; no thanks to me. I'd like to go to the same place as you when I die,"

"Jokes on you, I don't think heaven is where I'm going, love," Grace said, grateful to hear Tommy joking about her almost-sacrifice, for possibly the first time ever. "Remember the first dress you bought for me?"

"I do. You still have it. Fifty pounds, you made me pay for that," Tommy said, pinching the bare skin that peeked through the cut-outs of her dress.

"Oh yes, what a loss. However did you manage?" Grace rolled her eyes and pushed Tommy away before he yanked her back into his chest, nestling her against him.

"I didn't. All my crops died. We couldn't feed Arthur for two weeks thanks to that dress, that's why he's so skinny still. His metabolism never bounced back, you know." His serious face would have been taken for its value if it weren't for his old-man voice that was Grace's favorite. Shaking with laughter, she grabbed Tommy by his lapels and dragged him into a dressing room, knowing full-well Beth would come by any second.

"Tommy, wait," Grace said, pushing him away from kissing her neck, although it pained her to do so, "I know we talked in Alfie's office this morning but, everything is okay? Right? Is everything as you said?"

Rough palms came to the side of her face as Tommy caressed her, kissing her gently as Beth's heels clicked around the corner, approaching quickly. "Yes. Exactly as I said. This year is the last push Grace. After that no documents will show illegality, the Fairchild's will be irrelevant. It'll be just us. My brothers will be fine. I promise."

Grace pressed her lips back to Tommy's as Beth sheepishly interrupted and handed Tommy his receipt.

* * *

After some extravagant tip-giving and an exit much smoother than their entrance, Tommy and Grace were back in their Bentley and speeding towards Birmingham. They rode in a happy silence, holding hands and getting lost in their own thoughts. Tommy was the one person that didn't demand anything of Grace, and she to him. Most of the time, at least. Tommy took a phone call in Romany that snapped Grace out of her trance, and looking around she realized they were in Small Heath.

Grace left Tommy to his phone call, assuming he had business. She pulled out her phone, smiling at Arthur's Snapchat of Lily. The jubilant red-headed four-year-old ran around in Grace's backyard, laughing hysterically while Arthur chased her.

A poke to her cheek broke Grace out of her social media trance, and with a mock-scowl she grabbed for Tommy's finger, who was too quick and pulled away faster than she could grab him. Grace looked past Tommy out the window, and saw they were parked outside the Garrison. She was mildly alarmed at herself. Today had been long, but she'd never felt less aware of her surroundings than she had all day, Tommy's sudden change of mood had kept her in some kind of dazed bliss.

"Garrison first, three drinks each, home, party?" Tommy asked.

"Thomas. Three drinks? I know you hate surprises, but honestly. Coping skills, Tommy, coping skills."

"It's not a surprise anymore, Grace, and most importantly I know how you get after three bourbons. Distract me, please. With all luck, we'll never make it home to our guests. What I actually warned that hotel boy about was keeping our room open in case we wanted to come back, I kept the keys," Tommy winked, and his devilishness almost made Grace stay in the car and drive them back to London herself.

"You're the one that made me get up, I hope you remember that when you're breaking up the Lee's fights later," She shoved him playfully, letting him escort her now out of the car and towards the pub, and Grace's heart warmed as Tommy held the first wooden door open for her like he had so many times, "Ada and Meghan won't forgive you, you know-"

Grace swore loudly and fell into Tommy as almost 50 voices shouted 'surprise' at the couple, some in English, some in Romany. Tommy shook with laughter beside her, and as Grace looked up at him for mild reassurance she was met with a mischievous smile. She pressed her hand to his chest as she rested her head on it, catching her breath as the room laughed around them and continued to congratulate them.

"Surprised?" Tommy asked, leaning down to press his lips to her ear as he twisted her ponytail around his fingers.

"You're not?"

"Not much. You see…" Tommy cleared his throat while he simultaneously took his coat off and threw it over the bar, which for some reason caused his families to yell all over again before resuming the drinking it appeared they'd already done a fair amount of. Holding Grace close with one hand and pulling out a cigarette from his vest with the other, he continued, "I hate surprises. But you don't. Although you tried to hide your disappointment about our ruined surprise for my sake, which is truly endearing. But yes, I suppose it would appear that Johnny's accidental Facebook reveal may or may not have been all my doing. I had a plan, see."

Grace thought she was going to explode, registering the fact that Tommy did this all for her. "You didn't-"

"For you? Anything." Tommy gave a tick of a nod in greeting to someone Grace couldn't see before lighting their cigarette, giving her a drag, and taking it back.

Before Grace could speak or her tears could form, she was all but tackled to the ground by Meghan, who squeezed her and kissed her cheek. Their guests could resist them no more and they were soon surrounded by various Shelbys, Lees, and Peaky Blinders. Tommy's hand never left hers as they were hugged by anyone and everyone, the room spinning. When Grace had a second to breathe, she looked around and took in Ada and Meghan's handiwork. They'd covered the old bar in strings of lights, white flowers hung upside-down, and polaroids of Tommy and Grace over the years. The playlist was perfect, handpicked by Michael, most likely. All the windows had been swung open, and a thick but pleasant end-of-summer breeze filled the bar, even if it was a Small Heath breeze. Tommy was right, the surprise made it even better for Grace, and she felt drunk even though she hadn't had a drink yet.

Although the brothers were actually drunk, their hugs & kisses were Grace's favorite, their familial warmth comforting to her in the crowd. John messed up Grace's hair with his usual affectionate ruffle but Ada swore at her older brother before fixing it, placing a flower crown of white roses around Grace's head. The Peaky Blinders stayed close, eyes on the room, watching for fights. Curly came over quickly and handed Grace a card, over-explaining himself before Grace kissed his cheek, making him blush and run away.

"Are you happy?" Tommy whispered to Grace as one of the Lee's handed her one of Tommy's young cousins to hold who hugged Grace's neck fiercely with his little arms.

"The happiest," Grace said, smiling wide to kiss Tommy before a different person than who'd handed her the child took him back. "Wildly overstimulated, your family is mildly ridiculous, but the happiest,"

"Ain't that the fuckin' truth," Tommy muttered before leaning down to pick up Arthur's daughter, Lily, before Arthur came over himself.

"There she is, Jesus Christ. C'mere, you," Arthur growled in jest, the red-headed child squealing with joy as Arthur took her from Tommy, "Thought I'd lost her for a bit there. Oi, Michael…"

Arthur walked away and Grace rolled her eyes before being pulled into a bear-hug by Harry, who was working but looked happy to be doing so, congratulating them with his steady smile.

Grace and Tommy handled the cordial socializing of their party with ease, treating it like they did their various functions and charity dinners: say hi to everyone, move quickly, never let go of each other. Grace was happy to see most of Tommy's family, who were loving people if not a bit rough around the edges. Every child had gotten a little bigger, everyone had gotten a little older, and Grace couldn't help but reminisce on the days that Tommy and Grace had stayed and travelled with them, both of them technically on the run.

Tommy was side-eyeing the snug, where the Shelby's had gathered, and Grace squeezed his side, nabbing him another drink off of a passing tray. "Here, love"

Tommy said nothing, his social exhaustion apparent as he threw the whiskey back and grabbed another one off of another waiter.

"Are we allowed to ignore our guests to sit in the snug?" Grace asked, although she didn't actually care very much.

Tommy nodded his head around the room and Grace followed his eyes. The party was getting far more raucous, and between the drinking games, groups of men betting and throwing their dice on the floor, and exuberant yelling in Romany that was getting increasingly louder, Grace knew the party would be fine without them.

With one last glance over her shoulder towards the larger group of Lee's, she caught Tommy's cousin Eliza's icy glare, which Grace answered with an obnoxious smile and exaggerated wave. The rest of the Lee girls sitting at Eliza's feet scowled at her and returned to talking amongst themselves, their gossip twisting their faces into ugliness.

"Don't bother with them," Tommy said, expression now dark as he walked Grace towards their family, "They weren't supposed to come,"

"Oh now, it'd be no fun if they didn't," Grace said, stealing Tommy's drink. She knew more than well that a fair amount of Lee's didn't care for her, but she didn't care. The one's that did had been there for her, hidden them both in their camps without question, and Grace was grateful for what she had. Loyalty ran deep in these families, and she hadn't exactly played that card well at first, so she expected no less from the snotty girls, "Now I get to be sassy to someone other than you,"

Tommy rolled his eyes but laughed in spite of himself, pulling Grace's hand down to her side as she raised it to wave at the Lee girls again. They were almost in the safety of the snug when Grace heard a familiar crackly voice boom to their right.

"Now see, I'm really happy I didn't kill you all those fuckin' times mate, I would've missed this party wouldn't I have? You would've been dead. Get it?"

"Fuck you," Tommy snorted before shaking Alfie's outstretched hand, who quickly pulled him into a hug, clapping his back.

"May!" Grace squealed, ducking around the men deep in their bromance as they critiqued each other's suits, and tried to hug the brunette as gingerly as possible due to her massive pregnant stomach. Grace groaned as they gave each other a squeeze, "I'm so happy to see you, you have no idea."

"You too, I've missed you. I'm so sorry we're late, it took me forever to get him out of the house, you know how he is," May flicked her hand in Alfie's direction, the other on her stomach, and the two women laughed.

"I definitely know how he is," Grace replied while taking her turn to hug Alfie, his compliments making her laugh, while Tommy greeted May and dragged her into talk of his horses, which she looked more than happy to do anyway.

They spent the next happy hour in the snug, listening to Alfie tell stories and drinking faster than they maybe should have. But it had been a long eight years, and Grace felt like she was in a dream as Tommy pulled her into his lap while their family laughed around them.

"Now it's my turn to ask: are you happy?" Grace asked, her arms around Tommy's neck.

"The happiest," He replied, echoing her answer of before. A glass breaking stole their attention, and Grace quickly realized it had been Finn, who had tapped a knife on it far too hard in an attempt to quiet the room.

"You've gotta be kidding me," Tommy muttered, pulling a cigarette out.

Grace put two-and-two together and realized Finn was probably about to make a speech, which Tommy despised, "Oh, hush. It's for us, remember?"

"That's the problem," Tommy grumbled to himself, putting his lighter back into his vest pocket while clearing his throat and shifting Grace closer to him than she already was.

The room settled slowly when Finn climbed on top of the bar and tapped his knife more lightly against a fresh glass someone had handed him. The chiming echoed off the walls as the room settled and the music was turned down. Grace smiled encouragingly at Finn's anxious face. He was still little to her, sometimes. After an overly-aggressive nudge to the ankle from Arthur which sloshed some of his champagne onto the floor, Finn spoke.

"So most of you know me," Finn started, his voice shaking slightly, but less than it used to at his first family meetings.

"You're related to almost everyone in this room, Finn," John said, him and Arthur snickering.

"That's why I fuckin' said most of you," Finn hissed and cleared his throat before continuing. "Anyway, we're here tonight to celebrate our favorite sinner and our favorite snitch falling into undying love,"

Finn got louder over the room's booming laughter, Grace along with it, and although Tommy tensed underneath her she felt him relax after she pressed her lips to his temple "It's true, grumpy."

"Yeah, yeah." Tommy grumbled, but it was with a smile as he squeezed Grace's waist and slid her from one knee to another, letting her flower crown brush the top of his hair.

Finn laughed through the first part of his sentence, but the room settled down as he did, even with an obnoxious iPhone tone ringing out, "No, no, come off it, in all seriousness…oi, turn your fuckin' phones off assholes…in all seriousness, most of us in this family weren't sure if we would see this day, for one reason or another,"

"I don't remember much of my mother, but I do remember that my brother Tommy wasn't the same after she passed. I remember missing my mother, but I remember missing my brother too." The youngest Shelby paused as various Shelby's, Lee's, and Gray's crossed their hearts and murmured wishings of the holy type. "I don't remember much of my mother, but I do remember Grace."

"Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry," Tommy made fun of Grace in an affectionate whisper in her ear, knowing she was going to dissolve into tears soon enough. She poked him in the side and laughed, her eyes vacant of liquid so far. But she knew it wouldn't stay that way for long.

"I remember Grace helping me with my homework and having never-ending patience with my shite numbers, I remember her quiet smile in loud rooms, I remember her ruffling my hair every time she passed me. I remember her reminding me of what little I knew of my mother. And at least to me, that's quickly what she became," Finn had turned a little red, and Grace fought back the tears pricking her eyes.

"I remember Grace teaching me to drive, because when Tommy tried to teach me we ended up punching each other in the face," Finn said with a chuckle, and Tommy tipped his glass towards Finn, "I remember her helping me with my applications to uni, giving girls I brought home a thorough questioning, and bailing me out of jail secretly all those times, because, ahem, my brothers refused to."

Tommy leaned back in their chair with one eyebrow raised and a smirk. "What's that now?"

"Oh, like you didn't know," Grace smiled her innocent smile at him and took their cigarette, putting it out after she took the last drag. He grabbed her face and pressed his lips to hers, running his whiskey'd tongue across her lower lip.

"Alright, gross, seriously? This speech is for you, fuck's sake. I remember far enough of that, by the way" Finn groaned and the room tittered. Grace pulled away with a smile and put her hands up in mock surrender to allow Finn to carry on. "I also remember when everyone hated her but Tommy and I,"

People in the room, the same ones that had hated her (and still did), exchanged nervous glances but Graced dismissed them with a happy giggle, the only sound in a heavy silence.

"I remember the determination on her face when she walked into the Garrison every day after she quit the Irish Intelligence. Regardless of the threats, names, and drinks that were thrown on her, she stayed anyway. She stayed to love my brother, and she stayed because we were her family. Even if John did slash her tires." Finn's composure broke as he collapsed into his signature mischievous snicker.

"That was you?" Grace yelled towards John over the guffawing crowd, throwing a balled-up napkin that fell short of his lounging body, resting on Meghan across the snug's bench.

John threw his hands up in the air and laughed with the rest of the Garrison, cigar muffling his statement, "Don't get your Irish up; I cannot confirm or deny that it was me."

Tommy was shaking beneath her with suppressed laughter and Grace swiveled on his lap to look at him, "Did you know?"

He squinted with a look of deep thought, but his icy eyes were playful, "I, too, cannot confirm or deny."

Grace shoved him and tried to stop her laughter before resigning, "Fine, fine, I deserved it. Finn please continue,"

Finn looked at Tommy quickly with apprehension and scratched his temple, looking at his wrinkled speech with hesitation. "I remember when my brother stopped laughing, and I remember when he started laughing again. To me, that is the only measurement of Grace's time with us that matters. I remember when I was scared of being around my brother, and I remember when I wasn't anymore. I remember that after Grace showed up, no matter what happened or who she was, my brother was softened, in a good way, forever. I look up to my brother more than anyone-"

John and Arthur dissolved into almost-identical brotherly laughter, and Grace thought she heard something about 'ten-out-of-ten role model content' said before Ada reached over and yanked their ears, nodding at Finn to continue.

"I, uh, look up to my brother more than anyone, and he and Grace were decent enough to let me live with them over the past eight years. I saw a lot of things over those years, but what I remember the most is watching my brother laugh with Grace. And it was like watching a ship I'd thought to be sunk, rise to the surface." Finn fidgeted again with a nervousness, fearing Tommy's hatred of speeches about him, before shoving his speech into his pocket, raising his glass with a shaking confidence, "There's more I want to say, but anyone who knows these two can see what I'm talking about anyway, so I'll end with this: I don't know why God took my mother away. But I do know why God gave us Grace. And tonight is for that fact. So to the happy couple…"

Grace's tears spilled over in an embarrassing mess as the rest of the room joined Finn in his toast, and she caught Tommy looking at his younger brother with a quiet pride. But it disappeared as he lifted his face to meet Grace's, smiling at her tears before kissing them off her rosy cheeks.

Finn came back into the snug and Grace stood up to hug him, pinching his cheeks in the way she knew he hated. He shied away from her with his still boy-ish smile, "Oi, fuckin' stop, Christ. It was nothing,"

"It was definitely not nothing," Grace said, her voice cracking from her crying, yelling at John and Arthur to stop laughing at her with a "Shut up!", which only made them laugh harder.

Grace watched Tommy shake Finn's hand out of the corner of her blurry eye, muttering something to him that Grace couldn't hear. But whatever Tommy said made Finn shine with pride, and as much as she missed her little Finn, she was happy that he'd grown into the man he was.

"Now Tommy," Arthur said, standing with Alfie as the party picked back up, "We got you a little present. From your future groomsmen,"

"Did you?" Tommy said, cocking a brow. If he'd been hoping to make it through the night without his hatred of surprises being exploited, he was apparently wrong.

"We did. Outside with you, let's go junior," Alfie stepped around the table, pushing Tommy's shoulder.

Grace turned to May with her familiar dread of 'the boys getting drunk and doing dumb things', "Do you know what this is?"

May shook her head slowly as she sipped her tea, all-knowingly, "Definitely not,"

"Bitch," Grace laughed, turning to kneel on the bench of the snug where Ada and Meghan already were, leaning out of the window that looked upon Watery Lane.

Grace let her eyes adjust to the dark and saw a massive pile that consisted of wood, what looked like a sofa, and a huge portrait of David Cameron.

"Dear God," Ada groaned, "You cannot do whatever this is in the middle of the street, you fucking idiots,"

The girls started complaining out of the window as the boys gathered outside, Arthur and Alfie dragging a huge box out from under a tarp. Before opening the box Alfie turned to Tommy, who was already looking mischievous as he assumed what was in the case, apparently correctly.

"So I don't know if anyone was aware, but I have friends in Jerusalem, right? Yeah, they're pretty well stocked over there for their fuckin' wars and whatnot, so I called in a little favor. Boys?"

Arthur, John, and Michael all whooped loudly as they opened the case, revealing what Grace prayed wasn't some kind of missile, which it clearly was.

"Thomas Michael, what is that," Grace yelled.

Unfortunately, Tommy was too busy laughing, his hand covering his mouth that appeared to be smiling in some boyish glee, so John answered as they hauled the gun out of it's case, "A fuckin' bazooka is what it is,"

"Yeah, that's about right, luv. Bazooka. Yeah." Alfie confirmed, taking the gun from the brothers carefully and getting down on one knee dramatically to hand the gun to Tommy, "For you, sweetie,"

Tommy said nothing but took the gun with a comfortable ease, eyes devilish as he lifted it to his shoulder.

"And you're planning on firing that, an illegal weapon of fucking war, in the middle of Watery Lane?" Polly had joined them from inside, leaving the Lee's behind for the first time since the party began.

"Let the man concentrate, Mum, this is serious business," Michael said, wiggling his eyebrows at his mother, who rolled her eyes in return.

The boys gathered and yelled in anticipation, pulling their phones out to record while they shouted out where to aim.

"The bottom!"

"Nah bruv, the sofa"

"Shut up," Tommy said, aiming carefully yet joyfully, if that was possible. Silence had fallen in the Garrison as everyone had gathered to watch inside the doorway, the only sounds being the Tame Impala from inside and the brother's anticipatory laughter.

"Fuck it Tom, hit that motherfucker right in the face," Yelled Arthur.

And that's precisely what Tommy did, aiming the gun (sensually, Grace thought) in silence for a few more seconds before pulling the trigger. The small missile hit David Cameron right between the eyes, and the pyre engulfed itself in a small explosion as the surrounding Peaky Blinders hollered in raucous approval.

Tommy bent over in laugher, high-fiving Alfie, his destructive joy contagious to Grace and apparently everyone else, as their party exploded in agreement.

Grace turned away and slid down the back of the bench, leaving Tommy to his celebrating, celebrating well-deserved. Polly had joined them, and with her voice low so their conversation was their own, she leaned in to Grace, "Still not laughing as hard as he does with you, you know. Thank you,"

Shock came and went quickly, Grace instead choosing to pass Polly a shot of rum as thanks with a nod and a smile. It was returned, and the women fell into their chat as the boys did god-only-knew-what outside, the stress of years passed falling away as they freely acted like children again, cheering in the fire lit street.

* * *

Grace, Ada, Meghan, and May's laughter turned heads towards the snug as it became louder than the White Stripes crashing riffs overhead, their 'ugly face' selfie making Meghan spit out her drink at Grace's multiple chins that she had made on purpose.

"If you put that on Instagram and I'll kill you," May gasped through her laugher, holding her extremely pregnant stomach as she handed Ada's phone back to her, "Alfie might divorce me if he sees that cross-eye,"

"Please, Alfie would stay with you even if you had no legs," Snorted Ada, swiping a piece of cheese off of one of the caterers Arthur had hired to work the Garrison for the evening.

"I second that," Grace said, watching Alfie talk animatedly across the bar, swinging his arms around as he told a story, making Tommy laugh along with everyone else. Grace didn't even know what the story was, and she laughed along with Alfie's crowd. "That man loves you more than I think he's loved anything, ever,"

"He better. Drives me insane." May joked, the pretty brunette watching her husband affectionately, "He's started talking to the baby in the middle of the night, wakes me up, halfway down the bed, ranting about various topics to our unborn child," May rolled her eyes but smiled nonetheless.

Grace laughed hard, her whiskey's hitting her as she gripped Meghan's arm, who was now deep in conversation with her husband, "I'd expect no less, honestly,"

"We have an interesting pair of men, don't we?" May asked, resting her head on Grace's shoulder, Grace reaching behind to lay her arm across May's shoulders.

"We certainly do,"

The two women watched their loves, Grace's eyes falling to Tommy. She watched him laugh hard as Alfie jumped off a chair onto the floor, his back clearly feeling better as he reenacted some event of his past, enrapturing enough to draw in even the Lee's that didn't like him.

Grace watched Tommy lean back in his chair with his hands behind his head, jacket off, not having anything to worry about. Her heart almost exploded and Tommy must have felt it, looking towards her to catch her eye. Beckoning her over with a finger, Grace helped May up as they left the snug to rejoin the group that was now dispersing, it was past midnight.

Settling into Tommy's lap easily, she buried her head in the crook of his neck as he bid farewell to some of his cousin's in Romany, his smile back to it's usual barely-there status.

"Tired?" He asked quietly, lips on Grace's ear.

"Mm, yes. And drunk. Quite drunk,"

Tommy smirked, "I can tell. That's good,"

Tommy motioned quickly to Scudboat, who crouched to Tommy's side and listened to his whispered orders. Scud nodded started walking around the room and less-than-politely telling anyone that wasn't a Peaky Blinder that it was time to go.

Tommy and Grace stood reluctantly to hug people goodbye as they trickled out slowly. Eventually it was just Peaky Blinders in the pub, and Grace watched Alfie put May's coat on her carefully across the room. Grace didn't protest, the fact that a nine-months-pregnant May had made it this late was impressive. The couples hugged and promised to see each other soon after making Finn take a picture of the four of them. Alfie pointed to Tommy and winked before ushering his wife out the door.

"Are you going to leave me for Alfie? I think you two love each other more than you love us women," Grace said, Tommy pulling her into his lap once more, refusing to let her sit anywhere else.

"Probably someday," Tommy joked, throwing his whiskey back before stating, "Alright. That's my last one,"

"Right," Grace chuckled. Looking around, the warmth of her family filled her up, and she curled her legs underneath her as Tommy held her tighter. They sat like that by themselves for a while, watching Harry sweep while the remaining Peaky's played a loud and mostly incorrect game of Heads Up on Meghan's phone.

"I'm sorry your family wasn't here," Tommy said, his lips brushing the words across her shoulder.

"I'm not," Grace sighed, "It wouldn't have been the same,"

"I know. But still." Tommy was looking at her now, but Grace didn't meet his eyes. Part of him was right, but Grace buried it deep. "I'll be right back, I want air,"

Tommy nodded silently, giving her space as she ducked out the backdoor to the alley behind the Garrison, where Michael already was standing, smoking silently, wanting the same space she'd been seeking.

"So are you going to be my 'Man-of-Honor' or what?" Grace asked after a while, breaking their peaceful silence.

"Your fucking what?"

"It's 2016. Gender roles are dead, Michael,"

"What about Ada?" Michael asked, a raised brow looking frighteningly like Tommy's.

"Pfft," Grace made a sound as she exhaled, "Ada doesn't care. You know her. She's my sister. You're the evil-twin-best-friend I never had,"

"Oh, well, when you say it like that," Michael laughed, eyes scanning the street, "Yes, Grace. I will be your 'Man-of-Honor-' whatever the fuck that entails. As long as I don't have to work on your wedding day. I might have an appointment. I'll put it on your schedule instead, hope you don't mind,"

Grace laughed, "Fuck you,"

They stood in silence outside, listening to the Shelby's get more and more raucous inside. They were somehow capable of making just as much noise between their group as the entire party of fifty people had.

Michael stood still as a statue and spoke with a hushed voice, "Can I ask you something?"

"Always," Grace replied, staring ahead with glazed eyes, thinking about how she should probably start drinking water if she wanted to be something more than a corpse tomorrow.

"Do you trust Tommy knows what he's doing with this Fairchild business?"

Grace swiveled her head to stare at Michael, expecting to see the side of his face but meeting his cold eyes instead. "Always,"

Michael nodded slowly, turning forward before pulling out his phone and answering a text, cigar hanging from his mouth loosely, "Good. Me too. But the tides are changing, Grace. The tides are changing."

"Mine aren't," Grace replied sharply, her eyes still fixed on Michael's face, "Are yours?"

Michael scoffed, slipping his phone back into his pocket, "Please. No. It's not our tides we need to worry about."

"What do you know that I don't, Michael?"

He didn't answer, and the sound of a glass breaking inside made Grace jump, and she suddenly wanted Tommy again. Running her hands through her hair with a sigh, she picked a piece of lint off of Michael's suit before turning to go back into the Garrison. "I don't know what you're getting at but I'm too drunk for this. We'll talk on Monday. With Tommy present."

"Yeah, that we will. We need to. I'm off," He nodded, giving Grace's shoulder a squeeze before heading out towards the street, his cryptic comment hanging with a coldness that made Grace shiver.

* * *

"Grace, this one is for Ireland, and for you, because it made you or fuckin' whatever" John slurred, spilling some of his Guinness onto the floor as he raised his glass very unevenly. The bar had emptied out even more, no one left but the Shelby's, Grace, and Polly.

"Fuckin' right," Arthur echoed, his raised glass slightly more steady than John's. Linda had picked Lily up an hour ago, and Arthur was busy catching up on his drinking.

"How many car-bombs has he taken?" Grace cringed with a laugh, watching the two brothers drop their shots into the dark beer.

Finn looked up from his phone, "I think he's trying to take one for every year you and Tommy have been together. He's on like, five, I think,"

"Fuck's sake," Polly muttered next to Grace, feet up on a chair, Ada's sleeping head on her shoulder. "I'm sorry not all of the Lee's were their kindest to you tonight,"

Grace shrugged as she lazily watched Tommy and Arthur try to shove John through the window into the snug to see if he would fit, "But you were. Thank you,"

Polly turned to her slowly, blowing out a thing stream of smoke with a knowing yet dismissive look, "Yes, well. What's done is done. I'm off. Have fun tonight, make sure none of them bloody kill themselves, will you?"

Grace snorted and passed Polly her long coat, "I'll try,"

Ada woke up and stood as well, eyes half-shut. Grace reached her arms out and took Ada into a hug, "Tonight was perfect. Thank you. Thank Meghan, too, I don't know where she went."

Yawning, Ada pulled away and stretched with a groan, "Passed out in the snug, lush bitch. And don't thank me. It was worth watching you two all night. You've been through enough,"

Grace took Ada's hand and squeezed as her eyes fell on the blood spot on the Garrison's floor, conveniently covered with a table, as always. Ada squeezed back, seeing the same. "Call me tomorrow,"

"I will."

The slow Arctic Monkey's ballad that Harry used to signal the night ending rang out as the lights turned up, and the boys complained loudly as they wandered to the bar for their last drinks, but Tommy sauntered over to Grace instead.

Tommy was drunk, although no one could tell but Grace. He picked her up easily and sat in the chair she'd occupied, cradling her to him and breathing deeply. Grace rubbed the back of his neck as he hummed to himself.

"Do you want to go?"

"With you, yes," Grace said, words slurring more than before, making Tommy smile.

"Then let's go." Tommy stood up, not putting Grace down, and strolled into the back room of the Garrison, out the back door.

"We should say goodbye Tommy!" Grace laughed, thrown over Tommy's shoulder.

"Don't feel like it. I have an idea" Tommy said blankly, the same voice he had when he was determined about something. What it was, the devil could only guess.

Tommy walked them silently through Small Heath, the streets quiet, stores closed. It had cleaned up slightly over the years, but not by much. Grace knew she was safe with Tommy, but she kept her wits about her nonetheless.

Grace figured out where Tommy was taking her right before they got there, the familiar fence of Charlie's yard giving her a form of comfort she couldn't put her finger on. A subtly-drunk Tommy fidgeted with the gate, swearing to himself for not having the key before picking it with criminal ease and swinging it open anyway.

"We haven't been here in a long time." Grace said, her tone hushed as Tommy slid her onto her feet. The yard had a reverence to it, for whatever reason. She took her heels off drunkenly as she looked around, feet killing her no thanks to her Manolos. The moon shimmered on the canal, and Grace remembered the nights they would sit on the edge of it with a bottle of the Garrison's whiskey, feet dangling in the water while they talked.

"I know. C'mon," Tommy took her hand and led her forward, sneaking towards the boats like they used to, making fast breaks for London or elsewhere in the middle of the night, "Wait. I went the wrong way. Fuck. This way,"

They whispered in drunken laughter as they crossed the yard the way they came, Grace's dress bunched in her hand and her bare feet muddy. She smirked at the thought of her mother seeing her now.

Tommy led her into the darkened stables, no sounds but the water from the canal and the horse's breathing. Tommy's hand slacked in hers as he felt at home, finally around the only creatures he preferred. Grace included.

He walked her to the ladder that ascended to the hay-loft, taking her heels when she held them out to him. Grace climbed the ladder easily, memory telling her just where to place her feet without having to look.

"I'm loving the view, by the way," Tommy said below her, following her up, his hand brushing her ass under her dress before she slapped it away

"You'll have a better one in a few minutes," Grace said breathlessly, pulling herself up into the loft, the hay under her hands old but familiar.

She sat and rested her head on her bent knees while Tommy swore to himself in the dark, fiddling with the flashlight on his iPhone as he looked for the old quilts Grace hoped were still there. That they were, and Tommy shook them out, the smell of the old Watery Lane house making Grace drunker with nostalgia.

Tommy laid them down in the spot he always used to, one for underneath them and one for over them. Pulling Grace to him, they laughed for a bit while they listened to the Shelby's voices echo from the street. Almost a whole block away Grace could hear them arguing obnoxiously loud about who was getting in which Uber and who was sleeping where. But they faded away quickly, and Tommy's breathing pulled her back to him as his lips found hers in the dark.

They kissed quietly for a while before Tommy reached above his head to turn their sleeping music on. Grace rolled to her other side and slid back against him, letting him spoon her as his breathing slowed in time to the song.

"Did you have fun today?" Grace mumbled, reaching down to hold the hand that was on her hip.

"Well," Tommy whispered, "Patrick Fairchild is getting shot in the face, I got to have sex with you all afternoon, I got to buy you a dress, and I got to blow something up a bazooka. So yes, today was good,"

"Somehow I knew that's what you were going to say," Grace rolled her eyes, pulling his hand up to kiss it, "I love you, Thomas."

"As I love you," Tommy murmured, half-asleep already under his mother's quilt.

Grace forced her eyes to stay open to watch the sun appear over the horizon, succumbing to sleep as the morning's blackbirds began to sing.


	9. Chapter Seven

_As always, thank you for reading and thank you for being patient with me. I love you all, please don't hesitate to let me know what you think! xx_

* * *

 _Bad Habits - The Last Shadow Puppets_

 _St. James Infirmary Blues - The White Stripes_

 _So I Can Grow - Cold Showers_

 _Down by the Water - PJ Harvey_

 _Film Club - Childcare_

* * *

"So, white hydrangeas then?"

"That sounds perfect, doesn't it love?" Grace said, her reply directed at Tommy, who was looking at his phone underneath their marble dinner table, calloused thumb scrolling through emails until Grace punched his muscled thigh.

Tommy started and blinked his eyes reluctantly onto their wedding planner's massive booklet, clearing his throat with an annoyed, "Yes, flowers."

Grace flushed Irish pink with anger, and embarrassment, before she dealt a smile laced with nothing but 'please excuse us' to the professional woman standing in front of them, suited up expensively with advertisements, samples, and scents.

After their well-dressed organizer left the room, Grace snatched Tommy's phone and shoved it under her denim-clad bottom. "What is wrong with you?"

"Nothing, I'm listening, Gracie."

Grace smiled so sweetly it could have given Tommy diabetes. "Of course you are now, that your precious phone is under my ass. I don't care if you don't care, but if you don't care, don't come."

"Oh, I want to come alright," Tommy winked at her, his blues like ice.

"Dirty, don't distract me," Grace flushed again, "What kind of flowers did we, or excuse me, I, just decide on then?" She quipped with pursed lips.

Tommy cleared his throat and ran a hand over his face, "Er, white ones."

Grace sighed with a groan and tossed his phone to him with an eye roll of defeat, "Yes, Thomas, white ones. I give up, go to work. What parts of this do you _actually_ want to be involved in?

"My suit. The boys' suits. Food. Guest list."

Grace laughed and watched Tommy's smile bloom. "Fine. But in that case, don't lie and tell me you're interested when I tell you I'm picking flowers."

"Ah, but you love flowers, and I love to watch you love flowers." Tommy winked again and Grace squeezed his knee until he twisted himself free with a laughter-filled cringe, "What do hydrangeas look like? Are those the ones I bought you when we had no money?"

"Oh heavens no, those were carnations. Are you telling me now, nine years later, that Thomas Shelby doesn't know his flowers?"

"Yes, because you're the only flower I know," Tommy said, standing and heading towards the window to light a cigarette, "Please don't buy anything as cheap as those fucking carnations I used to buy you. Nothing but the best now. I'm off, I'll text you before I leave the office."

Before Grace could get a word out, his lips pressed to the soft skin of her temple, a quick 'you & me' muttered into her ear before he left the room and sent the wedding planner back in with God knows what kind of command. She looked shaken and three shades paler than she did four minutes ago, "So, Ms. Burgess, are you sure hydrangeas are the best? H-he- just told me that everything should be the best, and I don't know what that means,"

Grace felt trivial and materialistic, but she had lost most of her youth and innocence long ago to her various sins. She would take any opportunity to revel in what she had left. Tommy may have considered her to be his pearly gates, but Grace knew the closest to heaven they would ever get would have to be their wedding. And Grace was going to see to it that it was perfect, for them both.

Grace rolled her eyes and picked up her tea, taking a warm sip. "Please ignore him. Hydrangeas will be the best. Can I see the invitation samples?"

* * *

Grace shut the front door behind the wedding planner almost an hour later, thoroughly annoyed and tired of anything with a description that included "blushing", "everlasting", or "passionate". Thankfully Tommy had gone to work before the organizer of their nuptials had started using what were seemingly her favorite adjectives.

Strolling into the kitchen to grab her bag, Grace swore with a fright when she came upon Finn. He looked quite stoned and was standing front of their fridge, The Last Shadow Puppets blasting from his phone.

"And how long have we been here?" Grace quipped, reluctantly amused.

"Uh. 10 minutes." Finn replied, his mouth full.

"Not the fridge, Finnegan, the house."

"Slept here. Got in late. Isiah too."

"Whatever happened to staying in your own flat?" Grace murmured, thumbing through texts from Ada that were laced with stress about whether Grace should pick her up a salad or a large order of chips.

Finn moved from the fridge to the freezer, eyeing Tommy's Haagen-Dazs that her fiancé pretended not to like, saying it was for Grace, but Grace knew he got up at 3 A.M. to eat it in secret like a child, "Michael and Georgina are there."

"Don't remind me," Grace groaned, missing her best friend and despising his new apparent attachment.

Georgina had arrived in England two months ago, in a shitstorm of post-murderous glory, like an annoying little usurper with a new ego that was the size of Arthur's garage. Tommy and Alfie still called her the Kingslayer, much to her amusement, which annoyed Grace and May to no end. Her older brothers, Austin and Warren, Grace fortunately hadn't met yet due to their departure on a "well-deserved" vacation, but Georgina was all too present, and just as intolerable as ever. Her attention hadn't stayed on Tommy for very long, but Grace couldn't decide if that was fortunate or unfortunate.

After the possibly-psychopathic brunette realized Tommy was going to pay her no attention, she got bored, got drunk, and decided that her and Michael were soulmates. Which, surprisingly, Michael agreed with.

"I love her," Michael had said, crashing into the snug and dropping his phone onto the floor, swearing in Romani before continuing, "I've never loved anything ever and I love her,"

"What?" Grace snapped, pulling the Garrison's accounting books away from him and the swaying hand that held his whiskey. Tommy was sitting beside her and left his arm around Grace's shoulders, snorting but saying nothing, continuing his seemingly thoughtful session of staring at the ceiling.

Michael continued, "Georgina. She gets me. She's insane. I love her."

"Get away from me," Grace laughed, turning back to her Macbook and nestling into Tommy's side, stealing his cigarette. "We'll talk about this when you're not sloshed."

"I'm serious."

Grace had thought he was joking. She hadn't told anyone yet, but she could tell Georgina had a secret. Grace knew what it looked like to have a lie dancing behind lips, desperate to get out, desperate to ruin. The cool calculation that it took to keep something like that in check, Grace was all too familiar with. But Grace didn't know what their annoying guest was lying about, and she wasn't going to say a word until she did. Not even to Tommy. Her stomach had turned at the thought of lying to him at all.

Before she could even continue, a voice loud enough to drown out even The White Stripes overhead had floated in with impeccable timing. Georgina's obnoxious accent filled the snug from all the way across the bar, talking loudly about jewelry she'd brought back from America, as if she thought letting everyone know was a good idea. Grace flashed Michael a toothy smile and a sarcastic, "Okay!"

Tommy had laughed quietly and squeezed Grace's shoulder, not having seen Michael's slate eyes flicker on the couple in irritation, the sincerity of which Grace looked back on now with a sad retrospect.

"Alright then. Fine. God forbid I like something for once," Michael had muttered, drained his glass, and walked out. Four hours later, he departed for Santorini with Georgina for two weeks and they'd been inseparable ever since.

"It won't last," Tommy had murmured sleepily the next night, lips brushing Grace's hair while they laid in bed, "He's young. You're like his sister, Grace, he won't be mad at you forever."

Grace had replied with nothing but an annoyed blink, and Tommy had continued, "I'm not going to let him miss work."

"Oh, thank goodness, Thomas, because the work is what I'm worried about," Grace snipped, stealing their blanket and attempting to roll over.

Tommy chuckled and moved faster than her, wrapping the duvet around her limbs until she couldn't move, slinking his arms around her now mummied body and shushing her gently, "I know it's not the work. He'll be back, Gracie."

"This is different. He's different. She's insane."

"I know she is. But we used to be different, too."

Tommy had replied with a reverence, the same reverence of which his lips traced her collarbones as he unwrapped their down duvet off her, moving south until those lips had fallen between her legs mercilessly for the next hour.

"Grace."

"Mm?" Grace's blues met Finn's hazels and she snapped back to the present, in her sunny kitchen, "What?"

"Can we stay in the guest rooms for a while? We can't take it. We're trying to study and live our lives and shit but it's a little hard when Michael and Georgina are fucking like four times a day-"

"Jesus, I get it, yes, you can stay here. I'm going to visit Ada and then I have a shift at the Garrison. Don't burn the house down," Grace snatched the now-empty pint of ice cream out of Finn's hand and threw it in the recycling before heading out of the kitchen.

Biting the inside of her cheek with anxiety, Grace stopped in the foyer and stared at the floor while swimming in her own thoughts as she slid on her shoes. Somewhere deep down Grace was reminded of her 22-year-old self when she looked at Georgina. Right before her lie had cracked and shattered, the falling shards destroying the girl she used to be once and for all. But the stakes were higher now, they all had more to lose, and this time around it wasn't Grace that was lying. Grace wasn't going to let the cheap heiress unravel what her and Tommy had worked so hard for. Nonetheless, a spot of sympathy for the now fatherless wild child spiked Grace somewhere deep. Grace wondered if Georgina missed her father. _You have more in common than you'd like to admit, you know._ She scowled at her inner monologue and told it to shut up before snapping to Finn over her shoulder, "And replace Tommy's ice cream!"

"Tommy doesn't eat ice cr-"

Grace slammed the door on the echo of Finn's baffled voice.

* * *

Leaving her Range Rover with the valet, Grace walked through Birmingham City Hospital's automatic doors.

Her lethal purse swung in time with her steps as she walked down the familiar maze of hallways, the smell of antiseptic taking her back to various times she'd rather forget. But thankfully the last two years had been relatively peaceful, the last time Grace had been here was with Scud and Lovelock. She smiled to herself as she walked past the bench she'd sat on with them, her small frame wedged between their raging bodies in a futile attempt to keep them from killing each other; they'd cut each other apart in a fight over their girl of the week.

Grace clicked up the stairs to Ada's floor, the bright colors of the pediatric unit feigning cheerful feelings for the sick little ones. Thankfully they had Ada Shelby.

She settled into a chair in the nurse's station, where she technically wasn't supposed to be but the staff let her sit anyway. She waved to Ada's co-nurses as they passed, smoothly receiving congratulations on her engagement. Grace watched Ada pop in and out of rooms out of the corner of her eye, growing closer to Grace's seat with each visit. She listened to the small voices tinkle at Ada when she entered their rooms to do rounds, feeling very grateful that her pretty sort-of-sister had found her niche, away from her brothers' ever-increasing empire.

"Well don't we look rosy," said Ada, plopping down into a chair across from Grace, one leg underneath her. Her light brown hair fell in waterfall around her when she pulled out the pen that was holding it up. "Did you ask Pol to be your matron-of-honor this morning?"

"Yes, she cried tears of joy and called me trustworthy. But no, this flush is thanks to thoughts of your brother and this thing he does with his-"

"D'ah!" Ada yelped, her Brummie cracking with a cringe, "Quite enough of that, there are children present you harlot. Don't make my ears bleed."

"Well here, I brought you that salad, don't get blood in it." Grace pushed the container of greens towards Ada who snatched it with a groan.

"Bless you, I'm starving. Thanks for not getting me chips. Need to fit into my bridesmaid dress, don't I? Speaking of which…" Ada had already stuffed her mouth with lettuce but Grace could translate well enough. A glob of dressing fell on her pale blue nurse's scrubs which she flicked off before continuing "How did the wedding planning go today? Did Tommy enjoy it?"

Grace giggled, "No, he left twenty minutes in. Not his thing."

Ada stopped chewing and raised her eyebrows, pretending to be surprised, "Who would have thought. Can I come next time instead seeing as he's probably useless?"

"Not quite useless," Grace replied, thinking of the fear Tommy was going to instill in the caterers & tailors, "But yes, Meghan too. I'm not as good at these girly things as I thought I would be. I wish I could marry him in the woods or something, just us, you know?"

Ada looked mildly horrified, "No, no. I do not fucking know. This family has been waiting a bloody lifetime for this wedding. Jesus. You need my help. I don't need you and my stupid brother giving out bullets as wedding favors or something."

"Why?" Grace replied with mock sadness, "It would be so festive."

"How Peaky of you," Ada mumbled, turning her to her computer with a scoff, starting to plug in her patient's vitals mindlessly. Grace spun in circles on the swivel chair, childishly enjoying herself, and finally paid attention to the group chat, which she'd been ignoring all day. She didn't bother to scroll upwards, all she could see was the last of Arthur and John's apparent morning squabble.

 _ARTHUR: You're just mad that Tom and I used to throw your breakfast out the window and Mum didn't see_

 _JOHN: Fuck you. I was Mum's favorite_

 _ARTHUR: Tom was Mum's favorite_

 _MEGHAN: Oh honestly, shut up. Ada was probably her favorite. John did you make coffee yet? I'm about to get up_

 _ARTHUR: Yeah John, make the coffee already_

 _JOHN: Arthur do you know how to use a coffee machine?_

 _ARTHUR: If I had a wife, I'd make her coffee_

 _JOHN: Yeah, too bad she left you_

 _MEGHAN: JOHN!_

 _ADA: JOHN!_

 _FINN: #ROASTED_

 _ARTHUR: Shut up Finn. John I'll be right there to take care of your wife since you won't_

 _JOHN: Fuck you_

 _ARTHUR: Love you too!_

 _2:34 P.M._

 _TOMMY: Family meeting at the Garrison tonight. 7. Don't be late._

 _ARTHUR: Arsenal plays Manchester tonight, we'll be packed. We'll make money._

 _TOMMY: I don't care. We don't need money. You and Grace will close at 6. The rest of you: 7. Do not fucking be late._

No one answered, Tommy's idea of an invitation hanging in the digital air. Ada had seen it as well, and complained before Grace could. "You've got to be kidding. On this episode of the Thomas Shelby show: executive decisions!"

Before Grace could respond in agreement her phone buzzed again, with a text just for her.

 _MR. SHELBY: Got to London safe._

 _GRACE: You're in London? Missed Alfie too much?_

 _MR. SHELBY: Yes._

 _GRACE: Can we talk after family meeting tonight?_

 _MR. SHELBY: About what?_

 _GRACE: Can we just talk later?_

 _MR. SHELBY: Yes. Is everything alright?_

Grace didn't answer and threw her phone into her bag, biting her thumb nail lightly, an old nervous habit. Not answering Tommy would make him crazy, but if Grace hid one more thing from him, even her mood, she would probably implode.

"Grace," Ada paused, and was staring at her, "Are you alright? You haven't been yourself over the past couple of weeks."

Tommy may have known Grace best, but Ada was a close second. Grace got the chills when she looked up at Ada's face, she looked like her brother too much for Grace's liking in this moment. But Ada's eyes were softer, and kinder, and Grace wanted nothing more to unload her burden. But if Tommy didn't know, no one was going to know. Tommy came first, and that wasn't going to change.

"I'm fine Ada. Just stress. Extra work with Michael gone."

"I know," Ada grimaced, finishing her salad with one last forkful of kale, "You want to paint some nails?"

"Did they cover that in nursing school?" Grace smiled, standing up to go get the nail varnishes from their usual cabinet.

"Ugh fuck you, you sound like my brothers. Here, give me that," Ada took the box of nail supplies and carried it under her arm as she linked the other one through Grace's. Grace laughed as they tip-toed into the room of a four-year-old.

"Are you Anna and Elsa?" the tiny girl asked, reaching feebly for Grace's side-braid, her wires coming with her. Grace felt the ghosts of the wires of her past but smoothly hid her cringe as she and Ada leaned forward to tickle the weak child with their hair.

"Yes." They both winked, settling down beside her. For a couple of hours Grace moved around the floor with her sister, pretending to be some angel in the land of the sick, the only place she would ever be one.

* * *

Grace balanced unsteadily on Arthur's back, her worn Converse rolling uneasily on Arthur's bony spine. Both tried to keep their laughter in check in order for Grace to keep her balance, the slamming synth of Cold Showers in the background distracting them both.

"I swear to fuckin' God, Grace, if Tommy walks in right now…" Arthur said.

"He won't, he went to London to see Alfie for a bit," Grace murmured, concentrating on aiming the lightbulb in her hand into the socket of the brass lamp hanging in front of her, barely out of reach.

"Who goes to London for a _bit_?" Muttered Arthur, almost silently, but Grace could feel his jealous words rumble through her shoes on his back. She ignored him.

"How do we not have a ladder, Arthur? You're the owner, buy a ladder. You've been here five years. I've been working here longer than you have."

"Then maybe you should have bought the fuckin' ladder then," Arthur swore and shook with laughter once more, making Grace shake too, missing the socket again as she stood on his back precariously.

"Arthur!"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Where do I even buy a fuckin' ladder?"

"Oh, honestly." Grace said, blue eyes squinted while she focused. The teardrop shaped bulb finally popped into place as she lurched forward slightly, putting more weight on the Garrisons' lighting fixture than she should have. Screwing it in as fast as possible, they both continued to laugh as she crouched on Arthur's hunched back like a surfboard.

After easing her way down accompanied by more laughter and some swearing, they looked up at the fixed glow of the lighting and high-fived before Grace headed back behind the bar and back to her list.

"Are they drawing up the contracts today?" Arthur asked, not looking at her. Grace knew he felt left out, and she felt guilty. Tommy had been pushing Arthur to the side more than usual. But until Georgina left next week, with her new racing business in place, all cards had to be played close to the chest. At least that's what Tommy had been saying to them. And in his sleep.

"I guess," Grace shrugged. Knowing Tommy and Alfie, they probably weren't getting much done, but Grace felt bad lying to Arthur anyway, "They're ready, I guess Alfie just has to look over them. They have a plan."

"Yeah, what the fuck else is new. I gotta pop out for a bit before he gets back, you'll be alright?" Arthur asked, flipping through a stack of notes from the cash drawer before slamming it shut, the fresh cigar in his mouth mumbling his speech.

"I'll be fine, since we closed an hour before Thomas would even be returning, for no reason" Grace said sassily, counting the liquor bottles she needed to restock.

"Right. Text me if you need anything," Arthur slapped on his flat cap and walked out the door.

Grace raised an eyebrow briefly, wondering what Arthur could possibly be doing with what she counted as 500 pounds on a Tuesday afternoon. It was like 2012 all over again. But she chose to ignore that for today and fell into her closing shift work, singing along to the music overhead.

An occasional evening shift at the Garrison was a break from the office, and Grace was happy to be working a slow Tuesday in her second home. She couldn't leave the Garrison behind. She had met Tommy here, all the Shelby's in fact, along with agreeing to be the future Mrs. Shelby here, and it was close to her heart. She'd bled in the Garrison, made love in the Garrison, killed in the Garrison, and found her family in the Garrison. She wouldn't be leaving any time soon.

Grace swore when a banging on the doors made her drop the money she was counting, the urgent rattle of the old wood a familiar sound. She rolled her eyes, shuffling the stack to recount it, "We're closed,"

"It's Meghan, open the door bitch."

Grace counted the money as she walked around the bar, only taking her eyes off the stack to reach up and undo the latch above the frosted glass.

"Don't you have a key?" Grace asked, thankfully done with the pounds as a rushing Meghan rushed past her and into the bar. "Christ, do you really need a drink that badly?"

"Yes, I do, and I gave John my key because he lost his, and then he lost mine," Meghan replied breathlessly, waving her hand around wildly, "Is it just us in here?"

"Yeah, why?" Grace pushed the gin and the tonic water towards her pretty sister, who preferred to make her own drinks if Arthur wasn't around.

"I have to tell you something, and I need you to be calm."

Stomach dropping to her feet, Grace's mouth dried up with a familiar metal taste. _Tommy._ "What is it? Tell me. What is-"

"Well give me a chance to fucking tell you, Jesus. So, I just ran into the Fairchild brothers. They're back."

"Did something happen? Is it Thomas?"

"No, it's not Thomas. But he's going to be pissed." Meghan said, wincing at her stiff drink. Or the thought of how angry Tommy was going to be.

Grace didn't care. Chasing the memories of the old days away, she calmed down fairly quickly, "He's always pissed. What happened? And where would you possibly 'run into' the Fairchild brothers?"

Meghan reached behind the bar towards the lines of pint glasses Grace had just finished washing, grabbing limes for her freshly mixed poison, "John and I just went to lunch across town, the two of them were sitting at the bar, taking up three extra seats with their luggage."

"Oh good, so being obnoxious isn't just a trait of Georgina's. Is John here?"

"No, he went to meet Arthur. But anyway, listen. Don't tell Tommy this." Meghan stared at her tentatively, her brown eyes cautious.

The list of things Grace was keeping from Tommy was about to be at two, which was two too many for Grace's liking. She poured herself a whiskey and gave Meghan a cold stare, "Don't ask me to do that."

"Remember guy that Ada was talking to at the Fairchild's party? You said he looked like Johnny Depp. Wild exaggeration by the way, forgot to pick a fight with you about that."

"He did, you blind twat, but yeah what about him?" Grace raised her glass to her lips, noticing that Meghan had fallen silent. Peering over the top of the crystal tumbler, she was met with a grimace from her sister, who appeared to be waiting for Grace to put something together. Which she then did.

The whiskey that ripped through her nose was not comfortable. Grace spent a solid two minutes coughing and choking, sputtering the remainder of the amber liquid that hadn't been snorted up into her nose onto the floor. Meghan laughed and Snapchatted her while Grace gave her the finger.

"Don't tell me-" Grace croaked.

"Yep. Austin. Or maybe it was Warren. I don't fucking know, it's the better looking one so whatever. But anyway, we're all going to be in the same room tonight and I didn't want you to be caught off guard."

"Yeah, thanks for that," Grace muttered, catching her breath as she ran her fingers through her hair. First Michael, now Ada. Grace needed Tommy. "Ada needs to tell Tommy. I'm not lying to him about one more thing."

"One _more_ thing, eh?" Tommy's voice boomed from the back of the bar, and Grace jumped, staring at his chiseled face with her mouth open slightly. _Speak of the Devil and he doth appear._ He squinted his eyes at her before turning to John's wife and raising a brow at her, "Meghan?"

"Bye!" Meghan replied, taking her drink and throwing Grace a sympathetic look before walking out the front door, raising her phone to her ear. Grace hoped it was to warn Ada.

Tommy crossed the bar, taking Meghan's place in front of Grace, and the rest of her whiskey. He cleared his throat and set his elbows on the bar, eyes sharp and glinting with what Grace prayed was amusement, "So, anything to tell me?"

* * *

Grace's nails left half-moons in Tommy's back as he fucked her, his hands rocking her hips into him so hard Grace thought she was going to pass out. Their argument had been brief, ending with Grace straddling Tommy in the snug, which always tended to bring most of their arguments to a halt. The red handprint on her ass began to sting deliciously as Tommy imprinted it once more, pulling the pained rasp from Grace she knew he loved.

Tommy began whispering inconceivably sinful things in her ear when the door to the snug flew open, John and Isiah swearing in surprise before bursting out laughing.

"Seriously? How many times am I gonna have to see this shit before I fuckin' die?" John laughed, Isiah doubled-over behind him. Narrowly missing Tommy's whiskey glass, which had been launched at his head, John shut the door as the crystal shattered on the floor behind him. Grace heard the boys move behind the bar, rapping on the snug's window with a muffled, "Carry on!"

"Fuck off," Tommy groaned and buried his head in Grace's neck.

She laughed and kissed the spot behind his ear which was his favorite, "They did say carry on…"

"No," Tommy growled, halting Grace's hips with his hands, which she had resumed rolling.

"I can be quiet!"

That pulled a laugh from Tommy and Grace smiled. He leaned down to lick a droplet of whiskey off her breast that had fallen when he chucked the tumbler at his brother's head. He smirked at the goosebumps that were left in his tongue's wake, "No you can't. You used to be good at lying."

Grace looked away, and they were silent for a few minutes as they caught their breath, Tommy running his finger up and down her spine, staring at her.

"I'm sorry," Grace whispered.

Tommy shushed her, pressing his lips to hers, "You didn't even lie to me Gracie, you're trying to look out for us. There's no fight, there's nothing to be sorry about. I trust you. Eh? Look at me."

Grace reluctantly dragged her eyes from his chest and met his icy eyes, so close that their eyelashes brushed as Tommy pressed his forehead to hers, his voice low, "Like I said, I think you're right. She's a liar. We're gonna figure out whatever the fuck it is, together. I love you. You and me, alright?"

Before Grace could respond, the recently-arrived Finn began exaggeratedly moaning outside of the snug door, John echoing from behind the snug's window, which he began to bang on. Tommy yelled in Romani so loud the window shook, and the boys stopped their jokes but kept the laughter.

Grace slid Tommy out of her with an eye roll, the absence of his length suddenly very depressing. She got dressed as Tommy scrolled through his phone messages, absent-mindedly lighting a cigarette for them both. Someone turned music back on in the bar and Grace hummed along.

"Wait," Tommy muttered, cigarette dangling from his lips as he looked up at Grace with a scrunched brow. "There's two things. Eh? Two things. You said to Meghan you didn't want to lie to me about 'one more thing'. You only told me about Georgina,"

Grace swore to herself as she tied the laces of her old Converse, the only thing she'd wear for work at the Garrison. God only knew what various substances had gotten on them over the years. She'd forgotten all about Ada and her Fairchild suitor when her and Tommy had started talking about Georgina. But she was done fighting with Tommy, and unfortunately for Ada, this was going to have to be her problem. Grace strolled over to Tommy and took the cigarette out of his mouth and bounced up onto her toes to kiss him on the cheek.

"Nope. You can ask Ada about that one. Sneaky broad, your sister. Me and you," Grace kissed the blooming clench in his jaw before walking out of the snug, flipping off her whooping brothers.


	10. Flashback II

_Hi everyone, thank you so much for all the kind reviews you've given and the never ending support! Couldn't do it without you._

 _So I've been having some serious flashback inspiration as of late, and I want to know if you all enjoy these, and would want more of them. They'd most likely be a little more angsty and possibly a little slow-burnish (obviously we know the happy ending is included but still). Part of me is saying I should make it a new story, prequel style, but I sort of don't feel like doing that, so if I did maybe 3-4 flashbacks in a row, or alternated every other, let me know if that would drive you insane (in a bad way). ALSO I experimented with a Tommy POV for half of this, so let me know what you think of that too, the inspo struck~~~_

 _Ramble over, I love you all, thank you for reading! xx_

* * *

 _Angsty Two Stupid Stubborn Lovers Mood Songs Peaky Blinders Style_ ™

 _Still - Daughter_

 _Blood Bank - Bon Iver_

 _Sensible Heart - City & Colour_

* * *

2008

Grace turned left for the shortcut to her flat, the cold gusts of winter wind biting her face and trying to steal the scarf from around her neck. She flipped her penknife open and closed out of habit, keeping her wits about her as much as she could in the early hours of the morning. Small Heath streets were better than they used to be, but not by much. Protection in the dark alleys wasn't something she would receive anymore, although the memory of whose girl she used to be kept the night crawlers at bay. Grace pushed the latter out of her mind. Her Converse crunched on last weeks packed snowfall, and she wished she could feel her toes.

Her phone buzzed and she fished it out, looking around before she opened the cracked flip-phone.

 _FINN: Can you meet me tomorrow morning? Early?_

 _GRACE: How early? My shift just ended and I want to sleep in tomorrow_

 _FINN: 7? Please? I have a test at 10. It's gonna be hard as shit, long division or some garbage like that_

Grace sighed and rubbed her tired eyes. Finn was quite terrible at math, and Grace tutored him often. She still had him, Arthur, and Ada. She tried not to be resentful that the wrong Shelby's still loved her.

 _GRACE: Come over at 8. Don't be late and make sure Polly doesn't follow you_

 _FINN: You're the best. And I won't, I'm not stupid. You've survived sticking around this long, I'm not going to fuck that up_

"Something funny?"

Grace screamed and dropped her phone into a puddle of melted dirty snow, a droplet splashing back up so far that it landed on her cheek. But her insides turned to stone at the deep gravel of a voice that she could have picked out of a crowd a million strong.

Tommy was standing in front of the back stairs to her flat, hands in his coat pockets, staring at her. She stared back and tried to look indifferent. Four months ago he left her in the doorway of her old flat, and left. News trickled in, carefully spoken to her, from the three Grace-friendly Shelby's, that Tommy was back and forth between New York City and London. The Shelby's started getting much more money over those four months, while ironically Grace got significantly less. Not that she cared. Nonetheless, whatever expanding Tommy had done he had done well enough that now him and his eyes had returned.

Tommy looked good. The undercut that she could practically feel on her fingertips as she stared was devilishly the same. It was still doing a cruel job of accentuating his cheekbones that taunted Grace with their smoothly sharpened edges. His lips remained the only soft feature of his face, and she avoided looking at those. His suit was cut exquisitely around him in no other possible way but custom, with more expensive fabric she'd ever seen him in. Blood red silk lined his coat and draped itself over Grace's brain, trying to wring out the memories of him laying in her bed, sunshine on his face, waking up with a soft smile. Boyish freckles that she knew were still there made her bones ache. Love threatened to rip her chest open. The waves she had pushed out to sea when he left came crashing onto her all at once. But instead, she calmly said, "You're back."

"And you're still here," The lighter clicked twice before it caught, engulfing the end of the cigarette in a burst of flame and casting a hot glow onto Tommy's chiseled features, "How's the honest barmaid life treating you? Did you get a pension when you resigned?" He pointed the ember of his cigarette up at her flat, leaving a trail of smoke behind that mocked her, "Doesn't look like it."

Grace rolled her eyes and ignored his stings before she bent down to fish her phone out of the puddle, although the black block was now useless. The icy shock of the murky water along with Tommy's remarks snapped her out of her trance. She stood back up and stared at him again, forcing cynicism into her eyes so her expression had a shot at matching the tone of his voice. He looked tired, stressed, and emotionally blank. With no way of knowing if he was being serious, Grace decided she had no energy to try and figure it out. They weren't together anymore. They were never going to help each other. She put out the fire of questions she had for him that were burning a hole in her mouth and told herself she didn't love him anymore.

"It's late, Thomas, I'm going to bed," Grace raised her eyebrows at him as she reached the bottom of the stairs, her back door a story above them. Navigating the possibly icy steps, she fumbled in her bag for her keys fruitlessly, half praying Tommy would follow her and half praying he wouldn't.

Grace sighed in simultaneous exasperation and relief when she heard his even footsteps begin on the stairs, his incessant sarcasm continuing in the hushed voice he saved for such tones, "Do you think if you called the station and told them there's a hole in your roof, they'd come fix it? Swap the bucket out for you when it gets full of rain?"

"Thomas-"

"Is your picture hung up down there? A 'hall-of-fame' kind of thing?"

Grace spun around at the top of the landing, and almost fell over the railing when she found Tommy's face a step below hers. His eyes glowed in the darkness, and still held every detail that Grace remembered in her memories. One night she had woken up covered in sweat, rattled by a nightmare that she had been running around an abandoned Small Heath, having forgotten what they looked like. Tommy subtly flicked between her blues as well, and she wondered if hers had slipped from his memory in the four months he'd been gone. Noticing that his lips were smirking, Grace bristled, practically hissing at him, "What do you want?"

Tommy's smirk deepened as he inhaled his cigarette, the crackling paper the only sound in the silence of a sleeping city. With a movement that felt more like home than Grace's flat, he turned his hand to pass the burning tobacco to her. Splitting it, like they always had. _Your turn_ , he'd say, using it as an offering, an olive branch in their conversations in the Garrison at night. Grace's turn to ask him a question. Letting his guard down one drag a time. But it became more than that after a while. It was their quick and quiet moment that became a constant, a reminder of their safe place. But that place didn't exist anymore.

Grace's mouth fell open slightly as she stared at his graceful hold on the smoldering symbol and she thought she saw Tommy wince. She realized the motion hadn't been spiteful, it had been habit. Turning around in a pained daze that she hoped didn't show, Grace continued to fumble for her keys. Repeating her question, she kept her voice as steely as she could, "What do you want?"

"I need a favor."

Grace silently yelled at the hope that sprung in her stomach, attempting to make it shrivel with Tommy's words in her head. _You can say it as much as you like, but there's no chance._ Grace swallowed and stayed silent, wrapping her freezing fingers around her keys at last.

"No more affection for me, eh?" Tommy was fighting a smile and Grace wanted to kick him down the stairs and then hold him at the bottom.

"Make fun of me some more, perhaps it will come back," Grace said sweetly.

Tommy sighed and flicked his cigarette over the side of the stairs. He gazed across the alley to the brick wall adjacent, casting a quiet smile at the fading graffiti which Grace guessed meant he had had something to do with it a long time ago. Grace tore her eyes away from his profile to move her old key to the second lock. Almost a minute, or a century, passed as she jiggled the handle, the worn door torturing her and rewarding her by keeping her out here with him. It began to snow, puffy flakes drifting slowly, blissfully unaware of the neighborhood in which they'd be landing.

"Polly has a son."

"No fucking way," Grace let out an air of a laugh in disbelief, turning to Tommy again. He had already been looking at her. "You're joking."

"No. He's seventeen. Lives out in the country somewhere, about two hours from here. She's been in a fuckin' state, wanted to shoot me the other day," Tommy snorted softly, and for a second it felt like any other conversation they'd had, familiar and warm and theirs. Every other conversation except for the last two, "His name is Michael."

Grace hummed thoughtfully, not surprised at Michael's existence but slightly surprised at Tommy sharing it with her.

"I need you to help me with this."

Grace scrunched her eyebrows, "With Polly's son?"

"Just pretend you're from the adoption agency. Make it seem legit. I have a man that does my IT work. He can make you a fake email that says you're from the agency. Make a meeting with his adoptive mom-"

"Tommy, slow down-"

"-Make a meeting with her, routine coming of age bullshit, I don't care, and find a way to tell Michael everything. He goes by Henry."

"Why aren't you doing it?"

Tommy flicked his cigarette over the side of the stairs with two rapid blinks, which Grace knew meant he was annoyed, "She's suspicious. I went there in person but Michael wasn't home. She saw through it. Practically had a fit."

Grace stared at him, knowing the part of his heart he held his family in ran warm. "Why don't you send Lizzie?"

"No," he replied, shaking his head, "She wouldn't pull it off. I need you to do it."

Grace said nothing, tilting her head back and closing her eyes. Snowflakes landed on her skin and she breathed slowly as she felt them melt, whispering, "I know you have people that could do this perfectly well. Why are you asking me? The last time we spoke Tommy-"

Tommy cleared his throat, parting his lips and then closing them before answering her, "Will you do it or not?"

Warm light from a lamp Grace had left on spilled across her face as the door finally gave way, the groan of it leaving an equally tired silence in its wake. She sighed and pressed her hands to her temples, avoiding Tommy's gaze to look down at her orange tabby, who happily came outside to weave between her legs in greeting.

Tommy crouched onto her porch and held his hand out for the purring ball of fur to sniff, "And who's this?"

"Deaglan," Grace smiled despite herself. She watched the tabby turn his nose up haughtily at Tommy's soap and tobacco scent. Snooty bastard didn't know what he was missing. Grace's heart panged.

"After your dad," Tommy murmured, sliding the orange tail between his fingers as Deaglan continued to twirl around Grace's ankles in his dance for food.

Grace swallowed. Of course he knew, "Yes."

Tommy chuckled and the two stayed silent for a few minutes, Tommy staring at Grace's ever-twirling cat and probably her ankles, because they were most likely blue by now. She inhaled Tommy's scent some more and realized she hadn't been shivering.

"Well…" Tommy stood up awkwardly, the stiff movements out of place in the presence that he normally carried. His sentence drifted off as he glanced in the exposed opening to Grace's flat, the golden light now falling onto a part of his face too.

Hands in Grace's throat struggled to grip the invitation as it slipped towards the air between her and Tommy, but she closed her lips around it before it could escape.

Tommy hadn't been in this flat. It was hers. She didn't see his ghost leaning on her fireplace anymore, all the steps danced on her floor were her own. The only kisses dealt were reserved for Deaglan's head, the moans that bounced off the walls came from no one but Grace. The doorway wasn't a graveyard of Tommy's rejection that she had to walk through just to be out of the cold. Her pain must have shown, and Tommy looked away briefly.

"I'll text you more about Michael. Just think about it, Grace."

"I don't have a phone, I dropped it when you made your surprise appearance," Grace said, flippantly dangling the frozen cell in front of him.

What Grace took to be something akin to concern flashed across Tommy's eyes as he looked at it, but it was gone before she could be sure, "You were never a jumpy one. On edge now, eh?"

"I was always jumpy," Grace muttered.

"You were just pretending not to be."

Grace had nothing to say, but his glacial eyes felt safe as they blinked at her softly, "Yes. I was."

Tommy nodded slowly, thick lashes standing back to attention once more after a final blink, washing the glaze of what Grace told herself wasn't affection back out to his oceans. With a last brisk nod he turned away, jogging down the stairs.

Grace watched him go was about to begin the process of shoving her door closed when Tommy's voice boomed in the alley below.

"Grace."

Grace stuck her head back out, but quickly regretted it. Her penknife flew into the outside of her flat and she yelped, the sharp steel embedding itself in the wood above the stairs. She knew the aim that landed it wickedly out of her reach was no accident, and she wanted to pinch herself for dropping it.

"You won't be needing that anymore," Tommy announced, but when Grace poked her head over the landing to yell at him he was already gone.

* * *

Tommy ticked his jaw back and forth, mindlessly waving the smoke from Arthur's annoying vaporizer out of his face. Pol put another file in front of him to look through. The numbers looked like nothing. A papercut sliced the pad of his thumb and he didn't react, continuing on to leave blood on each page. Grace's hair had gotten long. Ponytail littered with snowflakes, ending where her bra closed. Four finger-paces up and to the left from there were three freckles in a straight line. Tommy stared at the blood drying brown, blocking out what had possibly been a seven. When did her hair get so long?

"Tommy-"

"What the fuck, what?" Tommy snapped.

John curled his lip up with squinted eyes, the same confused and annoyed face he used to make when their mother asked him to do any sort of chore, "Jesus, relax. I asked if you wanted any food. Fuck's sake. Pol stop stressing him out."

"Oh, it's not me that's stressing him out," With a voice like venom his aunt pursed her lips and stood, sliding on her new sunglasses that Tommy thought made her look like a bug. Somewhere very deep down was the five-year-old who wanted to tell her that. Instead he shot her a look and picked the file back up.

"Shut the door behind you," He said, keeping his voice as flat as possible.

"Yes, Thomas, if only we could all do that," Pol uttered, clicking the door to the snug shut and marching her heels out the front of the pub.

Tommy turned back to his work, ignoring Polly's comment, ignoring his brothers, and attempting to ignore himself. He scratched out a two. Grace had smiled twice. Wrote in a seven. The number of times she brushed her index finger on her temple, a nervous habit he didn't know existed. Zero. Sixteen. Two again. The number of times she called him Thomas.

"We need more whiskey. Go get it, Finn," John said, texting while nodding towards the window of the snug.

"Why do I always have to get it," Finn grumbled, standing up.

"I'll get it," Tommy heard himself say, holding his hand up to Finn, "I need to talk to Harry."

"Right well hurry up."

Shutting the door behind him, Tommy looked around at the almost vacant pub before approaching the bar, setting his empty tumbler on the scratched surface quietly.

Before Grace noticed his arrival, Tommy took in all of her he could shove into two seconds. Doing the books in the same corner she used to, Tommy was glad to see that Arthur surrendered to his order that after two months Grace could start doing the books again. Arthur had told him that she was refusing to leave, getting drinks thrown on her, Pol got drunk one night and almost killed her. Tommy had told Arthur to give her a raise and give her something else to do. That entire night he tossed and turned in a New York City hotel suite, wondering why he had done that, and wondering why she hadn't left Birmingham.

Grace looked good. The same. But different. Her hair was piled on top of her head, in one of those beautiful rushed accidents that women always seemed to pull off. _So much longer._ A piece fell in her face and Tommy watched as she puffed her bottom lip out to blow it away in what felt like slow motion. Tea sat directly behind her against the bar mirror, and he knew she'd forgotten about it. With brows scrunched in concentration her blue eyes flicked back and forth, bouncing between annoyed and satisfied as she worked out the math. Why hadn't she left?

The two seconds ended with his last thought, and Grace looked up as if she sensed it, smiling timidly before turning her back. Tommy watched her, stepping sideways slowly and playing invisible piano keys as she looked for the bottle she knew he would want. The closer she got, the more Tommy thought her fingers were shaking in their movements. But she found the whiskey, and arched on her toes confidently to reach it. The curve of her calves begged him to look, his pupils expanding as he tried not to give in. He was spared as Grace turned back around, light steps making no noise as she approached him. She walked differently now, like she wasn't trying to.

Setting the glass of amber down wordlessly, she pushed his money back towards him before turning to go back to the books.

"Grace."

"Yes Mr. Shelby?" She brushed her finger over her temple, looking at Tommy with a look he couldn't decipher, which irritated him immensely.

Tommy blinked at her, as he realized this is what he should have expected. He held back the comments that slid over his tongue and asked her how the books were instead.

Grace shrugged. Every movement from her was no longer calculated, but still her, "They're fine. Arthur has started letting me counsel him a little bit. He's stopped buying shit we don't need, which is a start," She ticked her head towards a row of candy-flavored vodkas, which Tommy figured no patron of the Garrison drank except whatever girls the boys brought in here. A laugh began in him but failed.

"Have any large amounts gone out? Petty cash? 200-800 pounds?"

"Um," Grace moved back to the books, another piece of her hair falling out of its sleepily arranged crown. Tommy tried not to blink, "No, our food expenses have gone up a bit though. We're going through the little stuff more. Olives, peanuts, pickles. I don't see what goes out of the kitchen though." Her voice was woven with a question in it, wondering what Tommy was getting at. It rubbed him wrong.

He felt himself pulling his hands out of hers in his memories, in the store room behind the bar, tears dripping from her chin, one landing on his wrist before he had followed Finn away from her.

But as he brought his eyes back to focus, she was just smiling at him, asking nothing, "Let me know if you want to see the sheets, or if I should look for anything else."

Tommy nodded, eyes on her lips, his mouth dry. He needed to start dealing with her answers to his questions and had to stop looking at her. He reluctantly swiped the whiskey off the bar without another word and went back to the snug, leaving her there.

As Tommy settled back into his chair Arthur's snort broke the silence he realized was thickening the snug.

"What?" Tommy asked, clenching his jaw and putting the whiskey on the table.

John shook his head, pointing his cigar at Tommy's face, "You're a bloody idiot, just so you know."

"Good news, John," Tommy cleared his throat and picked up the paper, snapping it open and blocking his brothers faces out.

"Alright John-boy, since you have such a great girl how many times have you cheated on Meghan this week?" Arthur guffawed, drowning out Finn's quiet laugh that he was probably scared to make any louder.

"First of all," John replied, "Fuck you. Second of all, shut up Finn. Third of all, we're not dating so it doesn't count."

Tommy tuned them out, trying instead to listen to Curly's muffled voice at the bar behind the snug window, telling the same joke he'd told a thousand times. The monotone had been comforting since he was little. But without warning Grace's laugh appeared at the end of the joke, appeasing Curly until he giggled with joy. He hadn't forgotten Grace's laugh after all, it was still like his mother's wind chime. They had hung it in the old barn, Tommy sitting on her shoulders, his tiny hands missing the hook over and over while she laughed. _Go on, Thomas. Try again._ Tommy dropped the paper and stood up suddenly, his chair screeching back and hitting the wall.

"The fuck?" Arthur said, his mouth full.

Tommy said nothing, snatching his jacket and walking out of the snug. He rounded the corner sharply to the front door, not daring to look back at Grace before stepping into the bitter air. He took out a cigarette, lit it and pulled one drag from it before throwing it to the ground. Purposefully with no destination, he walked forward and thought, ignoring the greetings people offered to him as they passed.

But he found himself at Charlie's yard eventually, and the gate swung open silently. Tommy let the iron clang closed behind him. His uncle emerged from the warm garage but Tommy waved him away, not wanting to deal with whatever supposed wisdom the man thought he had in store for his nephew.

Stones crunching beneath his shoes, Tommy walked along the cut, stopping into the warehouse to see how much Nipper had fucked up before settling back down by the water. The river was low, it had been a dry winter thus far and the water danced far below his leather soles. A glance into the greenish-brown below dealt Tommy nothing but his reflection, and he decided the grimness of Birmingham across the cut was a better view.

A family on the other side caught his attention, walking down the river. An older boy and a little girl with their parents. The father dropped to the girl's level, pointing over her shoulder down into the water at something Tommy couldn't see, a leaf hopefully, as opposed to whatever the citizens of Small Heath had decided to contribute to the cut that day. She squealed in delight, squatting down and clapping. Tommy's eyes flicked to the mother, cheering her son on as he feebly threw stones distances Tommy was sure the boy thought were the farthest anyone had ever thrown anything. He remembered that feeling. Vaguely. Something inside of him winced and he looked away, pulling a cigarette out again. Cutting back wasn't going very well.

The couple walked out of sight, their children's joyous enthusiasm drifting back with the current. He thought about Grace. He told himself to fuck off. He thought about Grace again.

Tommy sensed Ada before she arrived, the sound of her steps dictating the way she walked. He sighed as she swung her denim-clad legs over the stone wall, meters down from Tommy knowing he needed as much space as she did.

"I thought you'd be here," Ada said. His little sister's all-knowing voice was extremely annoying, "Arthur texted me and said you had some sort of episode and walked out."

Tommy blew smoke out of his nose, "Go away, Ada."

Ada said nothing but Tommy knew she was going to continue along with her knowing smile as well, "Grace misses you, you know."

A flash of irritation shoved out the reality of what Ada said and Tommy resisted turning towards her, once again choosing the old buildings of Birmingham to shoot eye-daggers at, "When do you talk to Grace?"

"All the time," Ada snorted, "I tell Pol I'm staying at my 'boyfriend's' house when I'm sleeping at Grace's all the time. She tutors Finn you know, like four times a week."

"I'm aware. What's the boy's name Ada?"

"Oh, honestly Tom, he's not even real. I made him up so I could get away from Pol and go see Grace," Ada had scooched down, and she swiped his cigarette from him, throwing it into the cut with a scoff, "Are you going to keep avoiding what I said?"

Tommy glared at her before turning back to the water, squinting into the smoke of the horizon. He could tell Ada some things. "I went to see her last night," he muttered.

"I know," Ada stared across to where he was staring, into nothing, into their own thoughts. They sat like that for a while before Ada spoke again, "It wasn't stupid, Tom."

Tommy's thoughts drifted, remembering the sight of seven-year-old Ada hiding under his covers, waiting for him to get home. He'd pretend he didn't see her and loudly ask for her all over the house as she giggled boisterously. _Were you out doing something bad?_ she'd ask when he finally 'found' her. _That's okay_ , she'd reply to his answer, _I still love you._

"Do you forgive her?" Tommy asked lowly, the question coming out quickly, as if he hoped Ada wouldn't hear him and he could say he didn't ask.

Ada swung her feet one-by-one over the water, her eyes following her boots, "I don't know. I haven't really thought about it," She bit her thumbnail, their mother's hand no longer around to swat it out of her mouth, "I tried to pick a side, I tried to be angry. I was for a couple of months. But I love her." Ada turned to look at him and Tommy knew she was giving him a look he would hate.

Tommy swallowed and said nothing as they sat in silence for more moments. He replayed Grace's door spilling light onto her face over and over. Maybe if the cut was the color of her eyes he would look at it. He stood up suddenly, smoothly maneuvering off the river's barrier before heading to the yard's back gate, "Give her your old iPhone, the one I replaced for you last Christmas. Still works doesn't it?"

"Wh-?"

"She broke her phone last night and she needs one," Tommy yelled over his shoulder, "Don't forget."

Ada yelled back but the wind whipped the words away, the smell of coming snow blowing the memory's scent of Grace's hair out of Tommy's nose.


	11. AN

**A/N**

 _First off, I want to start by saying I AM SORRY for "updating" with an author's note...I despise the tease of it and it breaks my heart to do it to you all._

 _But I couldn't hold on off on making it clear to all that have supported and loved this story that I have not abandoned it by any means, and have full intentions and palpable plans to complete it._

 _If you are a writer yourself then you know that a story that must be told burns inside you at all times, and that is the case for me here. I am writing an OC fic at the moment that I'm very proud of and looking forward to publishing, but this - THIS - story is my actual biological child. It is not lacking in inspiration nor a future, and I promise it will return, consistently._

 _I am proud of this story but there are things I am planning on going back and "ironing out", so to speak. As my first fanfic it was a bit of an unplanned word-vomit without any real plan or plot outline, which is all well and good, all novice considered, but I want to lay it out and know what I'm doing. Said outline and story are in my head (and thriving), I just have to aim before I shoot._

 _TL;DR: thank you all SO much for being patient, loving, and responsive to all that I have given you, and please hang on just a little bit longer while I get my literary skills together. I appreciate each and every one of you_! xx


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